


Bruce and Clark: Mathletes

by batneko, TheUnvanquishedZims



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, M/M, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4253505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batneko/pseuds/batneko, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnvanquishedZims/pseuds/TheUnvanquishedZims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was all inspired by some sketches on tumblr, here if you want to see:<br/>http://batneko.tumblr.com/post/117582886287/batneko-batneko-batneko-i-really-want-to<br/>http://batneko.tumblr.com/post/118088478542/batneko-im-a-homebody-so-i-dont-actually-know</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

TV said summer was a time to reinvent yourself.  Shows were full of characters returning for a new season suddenly taller, or hotter, or a new actor.  And Clark, even though he was still growing like his skeleton had something to prove, wanted to take advantage of that idea.

 

He'd already used a misunderstanding to pretend he needed glasses.  Now he could take them off and squint at things, and everyone thought he was just self-conscious instead of figuring how how to trigger a different type of vision.  The next step was filling his time so that no one asked why he wasn't going out for sports next year.  He, like all sophomores lucky enough to even make it on the team, had spent most of the football season benched.  Next year he might stand a shot at playing, and that couldn't happen.  Not now.

 

Once again taking cues from television, Clark found out his school had a mathlete team.  Math was easy enough; he'd never had a passion for it but never struggled with it either.  He seemed to have a natural skill for calculating angles and trajectory on the fly (sometimes literally).  Getting accepted to an actual sleepaway mathlete camp hadn't been part of the plan, but it would help.  He could craft a new persona here.  One that didn't stand out, didn't draw attention.  A boring, mild kind of guy that wouldn't even stick in the mind.

 

Unfortunately there seemed to be a fine line between mild and easy-pickings.  Day two of camp, and Clark found himself cornered by a group of guys from another school, being sneered at by professionals.

 

"I- I don't want any trouble."  It was true.

 

"Too bad, stretch, you found it."

 

It took a moment to realize what he'd done to deserve this, in their minds.  Trounced their team, certainly, but the Smallville team had accidentally all worn plaid to the scrimmage.  He'd seen a couple of sneers, heard a few jokes about cows and corn.  Maybe Pete shouldn't have said what he did about the lack of private tutors.  Maybe Clark shouldn't have laughed and agreed.

 

These guys, rich preppies from Gotham or somewhere, couldn't stand for being _laughed_ at by _hicks_.

 

Clark didn't fight back, which seemed to enrage the tallest one.  All he got was a rough shove and a sock to the ribs (which left the tall one shaking his fingers), before a voice snapped, "Hey!"

 

Between the the other boys, Clark saw the last team member stalking toward them.  He was a little younger than the rest, but he stood with his back straight and his shoulders squared, and his face was so intense that he looked ten years older.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Relax, Brucey," the tall one laughed.  "Just showing this guy why he should keep his trap shut."

 

"No."

 

The laughter faded from his face.  "No?"

 

"I said _no_ ," the boy snapped.  "Aren't you better than this?"

 

"Not really."  He moved to punch Clark in the nose, but the younger boy leapt on his back, throwing off his aim and sending his knuckles through the cheap plastic lens of Clark's glasses.

 

All three boys rounded on the one called Brucey.  Clark hated himself for hesitating even a second in the debate between preserving his mild image and helping his would-be savior.  Then it was a melee of awkward fists and jabbing elbows, and Clark grabbed Brucey by the collar and dragged him away.

 

That the rest of the team didn't follow them was probably just a reflection of how pathetic the whole thing had been. Clark's shirt was torn, his glasses broken, and there was a brown shadow under Brucey's eye that was already darkening to purple.

 

He halted when Brucey started struggling against his hold, suddenly concerned about the rough handling. He swung the smaller boy around to face him trying to not let on that he wasn't nearly as out of breath from the abrupt departure as the other seemed.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

Brucey was steadying himself with a hand on Clark's chest, breathing hard. The slump of his shoulders under Clark's hands was more familiar than his earlier stance, and Clark winced as things clicked together in his mind. "Oh geez you're Bruce Wayne..."

 

"You..." Bruce (Brucey?) straightened up to glare at Clark. "You don't have a scratch on you."

 

"What? Yes I do, they punched me in the face, and- and-"

 

"They did punch you. They punched me too and I'm bleeding. It feels like my eye's swelling. You..." Bruce's hand snapped up, plucking Clark's glasses off his face before he could dodge.

 

Clark felt very exposed with nothing standing between him and the stormy blue glare. He cut his eyes to the side, squinting belatedly. "Hey give them back, I can't see without them-"

 

Bruce let him take them, glare evolving into a flat stare as Clark fumbled them back on. "The glass is flat."

 

"I beg your pardon?" Clark's voice was not cracking, it was just a trick of his ears.

 

"Those aren't prescription, the glass is flat."

 

"Uh..."  All his efforts to hide, to blend in, and some isolated rich kid was picking them apart in seconds.  "I just like them. They make me feel better. I know it's weird."

 

"And I suppose the rest is just luck?"

 

"I... I've got a tan. Maybe my bruises aren't showing up?"  Bruce still looked suspicious, so Clark put an arm across his back, hoping to throw him off.  "Hey, we should get you an ice pack or something.  That eye doesn't look good."

 

"I'll go by myself."  Bruce squirmed away from him.  "If we go together, there will be more questions."

 

Clark hesitated, hating himself a little more for still thinking of putting his secret above the well-being of someone else. "Shouldn't we go together to report it though? I mean, we did just get assaulted..."

 

"I doubt it'll matter much," Bruce snorted, looking bitter. "Even if they got in trouble, their parents would be able to smooth it out with the camp administrators. They probably wouldn't even have to leave, and if they did then their parents wouldn't send them back here again, which means the camp would lose out on their admission money, which means they might not be able to stay open, and of course it's better for everyone to be able to have a camp to come to than to just stop a couple of kids from playing a little rough, so we'll just overlook this this one time, won't we?" By the end of his rant his voice was high-pitched and sweetly mocking. This was clearly a sore spot for him.

 

Clark coughed awkwardly. "I'm, uh, on a scholarship."

 

"Well obviously," Bruce said, looking pointedly at Clark's jeans and worn out t-shirt.

 

"Riiiiiight." Clark took a step back.  "Well, if they bother you again, I..." He trailed off, not sure what protection he could offer.  "I mean.  I'll back up your story."

 

"I think I can handle it."  Bruce spun on the heel of his leather sneakers and walked away, only touching his eye and wincing when he was far enough that he most likely thought Clark wasn't still watching.  Which made Clark realize he was still watching.

 

With any luck (and boy, the hating-himself score was high today) those bullies would focus on Bruce now instead of him.  All Clark wanted was to spend the rest of camp playing statistics games and telling ghost stories. He didn't need to get caught up in the tangle of rich kid politics.

 

That hope lasted about a day.

 

***

 

"Metahumans" seemed to be the accepted term, from Bruce's research.  Whether they were from a more intense environment (like the ocean, or space, or some sort of isolated island of immortals), or changed somehow in a lab "accident" (Bruce didn't buy for a moment that most of them were accidents) all people with abilities beyond the norm fit into the category of "metahumans."

 

There were regional terms. In Kansas they were called "meteor freaks" after the strange meteor shower that empowered most of them.  In Central City they were called "the impossible."  In Minnesota a freak accident produced "bang babies." There were a few websites that called the ones in New England "Innsmouthers."  Bruce assumed that most of these names would be considered insulting by the receivers.

 

Whether the boy from yesterday was a metahuman was still up for debate.  His excuses for not being injured had been plausible, if delivered weakly.  What was more suspicious was the way he reacted to being bullied.  Someone as tall and broad as that must have been able to defend himself, but he didn't so much as make a move.  Until Bruce arrived; and even then he only acted to get them both out of immediate danger.

 

This needed more study.

 

The Gotham and Smallville teams both attended AIME training at the same period, just before lunch.  Most of the students were impatient to finish and eat, so it was one of the least productive lessons.  Today Bruce spent most of it looking at the Smallville boy from the corner of his eye and trying to determine if he'd gotten new glasses, or simply popped the lenses out of the old ones.

 

Bruce didn't like the lunch period.  He hadn't gotten along with his team before (they were mostly older than him and he'd only been recruited because they needed a ringer), and pointedly ignored him when he sat near them to eat.  Now he was... not afraid, never afraid, but hesitant to try.  He took his food out to one of the campfire areas little-used by their camp association and sat on a moss-covered bench.

 

He had about thirty seconds to try to enjoy his camp-rationed hot dog before someone sat down next to him. Bruce tensed but continued chewing.

 

"They went after Pete last night." It was a bit of a jolt hearing the harsh tones from the formerly soft-spoken boy, but Bruce didn't react outside of a sharp look.

 

"Makes sense," he said flippantly, watching for a reaction. "They got away with it before, they'll just keep doing it until they're shut down, and then they'll find another way to try to take you down, especially if you keep out-doing them."

 

"We weren't out-doing anything! Pete was just going for a walk and they- Hrmph." Bruce was subjected to a surprisingly harsh glare. "You're not with them are you?"

 

"Do I look like I'm with them?" Bruce asked snidely, gesturing to the empty corner of the campfire pits to indicate his current popularity. "Just because we're from the same city doesn't mean we're on the same side."

 

"You are kind of on their team. It'd make sense if you wanted to stick together."

 

"Even if I wanted to stick with those imbeciles, I doubt they'd let me after turning on them yesterday. Do not mistake geographic proximity for camaraderie."

 

"You know them though, right? Their names? At least give me that."

 

Bruce stared at him.  "I don't even know _yours_."

 

"Oh." Beneath the workman's tan, Bruce thought he detected a bit of flush.  "Clark.  Clark Kent."  He stuck out his hand and Bruce shook it, finding no calluses and a rather weak grip.

 

"Bruce Wayne."

 

"I know.  I mean."  He winced.  "Nevermind, yeah.  Nice to formally meet you."

 

"What's your plan, Mr. Kent? Just go to the councilors and snitch?"

 

"You call me Mr. Kent but you know the word snitch?" Clark snorted.  "You don't have too many friends your own age, do you?"

 

Bruce stood up.  "Nice talking to you."

 

"What- Aw, come on.  I didn't mean anything!" Clark hopped to his feet so fast he blurred.  "Look, I don't have a plan.  But they hurt my friend, and I can't let that happen again.  I don't care what happens to me-"

 

"Because you're that noble?" Bruce whirled around and fixed him with the glare that usually unnerved people.  "Or because they _can't_ hurt you?"

 

Clark Kent had bright blue eyes.  Bright, honest eyes.  He hesitated for a long moment, and Bruce could see the involuntary twitches as he searched for a way out.

 

"Do _you_ have a plan?" he asked.

 

"No," Bruce admitted.  "But maybe an... outline."  He touched his eye gingerly.  In the mirror this morning the bruise had been an ugly purple.  He'd taken a couple anti-inflammatories, but it was starting to ache again.  "Our coach. We lost that scrimmage against a school as small as... well, it has small in the name.  And his only question about this was how I'd had the time to get in a fight, when I should be studying."

 

"So, what, you're going to rat out your team to your own coach?"

 

"I was thinking something a little more...subtle." Bruce smirked, then schooled his face into a concerned expression. "I mean, I'm just a junior member so I'm not an authority on this, but doesn't it take a lot of time to hike through a forest that big looking for one dumb hick? Shouldn't they be spending that time working to bring Gotham Preparatory Academy back to the top where it belongs instead of tromping all over nature?"

 

His voice slowly shifted from concerned to catty to superior, insincerity dripping from every word. "I mean really, if they wanted to enjoy the woods they should have gone to ranger camp or something. This is a place for serious students who care about pushing their minds to the limit and going for the gold."

 

Clark stared at him. "You're really good at that, aren't you?"

 

"Getting what I want?"

 

"Manipulating people."

 

"To get what I want. And yes, I am. Usually. It doesn't seem to work on people my own age."

 

Clark huffed out a laugh. "That's because people your own age can tell what a faking faker you are."

 

"I'll keep that in mind."

 

"Well, uh..." Clark smiled crookedly.  "Thanks.  For whatever you're gonna do."

 

"I can't promise anything."

 

"For trying, then.  And I don't think I said it before, but thanks for trying to save me."

 

Bruce blinked. "You're... welcome?"

 

"I'll see you at dinner, let me know how it goes!" With a little wave, Clark headed off, leaving Bruce to realize he hadn't gotten any answers at all.

 

***

 

Three days later Bruce still hadn't gotten answers, but he had somehow acquired a friend. Or at least a dining partner. They usually met for lunch and dinner, breakfast being reserved for teams to go over the day's schedule and drill each other. The closeness helped him with his observations, but it felt...strange. He was used to eating alone, or with older acquaintances he could charm with small talk. Dealing with someone his own age was more difficult.

 

"No, you put the chili on the hot dog, then the cheese, _then_ the peppers. Maybe another layer of chili if you're hungry."

 

Bruce stared at the concoction forming on Clark's plate. "That's disgusting. How can you eat this? And so much of it? And how can they get away serving this? We pay a ridiculous amount of money to be here and they serve us hot dogs three times a week. The administration is probably embezzling the meal budget."

 

"This is what's expected of camp food."  Clark shrugged.  "Hamburgers, hot dogs, maybe like... questionable stew."

 

"That stew yesterday was rather questionable."

 

"Why? What's the food like at your school?"

 

"I don't know.  I bring lunch from home."

 

Bruce didn't know what Clark's friends thought of him abandoning them, but he hadn't seen any of the suspicious glares he got from his own team, so it must not have been too big an issue.  They didn't talk about much when they were together.  Food, weather, camp activities.  Bruce was of the opinion that anything that wasn't studying was a waste of time.  Clark thought that organized activities kept their free time from being too boring.

 

"All I know is, last time Pete had too much free time, he invented corn jousting."

 

"What's corn jousting?"

 

"I'm still not sure.  The tournament got broken up by his parents and his cousin the cop.  I'm also not sure if the cousin being a cop was part of it, or if he just happened to still be wearing his uniform."

 

Bruce sighed.  "I'm glad you can at least opt out of the more inane ones.  Running around in the woods at night seems like asking for trouble."

 

"I don't know, the rules sound pretty easy.  Find the things, don't get caught.  And we'll be supervised."

 

"I would rather do almost anything else."

 

"Yeah... I hope you have a doctor's note, then."

 

"I can get one," Bruce said confidently.  Then he paused.  "Wait, why?"

 

"The game's mandatory.  All the councilors are taking part.  Didn't you know?"

 

"No." Bruce frowned. "My teammates assured me I wouldn't need to play with them."

 

"Huh." Clark frowned too. "Makes sense. I mean, it's mean of them, but considering how well you normally get along, it makes sense."

 

"What am I missing here?" Bruce asked.

 

"Well, we're being split into teams, and everybody's pretty much just sticking with their normal group, but it looks like your team excluding you. Which is a jerk move, especially if they told you you don't need to play, but honestly? It kinda just sounds like you misunderstood them. You tend to do that."

 

"I do not," Bruce snapped defensively. "They're probably just trying to pull another stupid sabotage attempt. Did I tell you they put salt in my oatmeal this morning?"

 

"Yes, Bruce, twice. And I told you that's just a normal prank."

 

"A low-level campaign of intimidation can succeed where overt bullying can't," Bruce shot back with narrowed eyes.

 

"Okay, so they're intimidating you." Clark kept talking over Bruce's mutters of not being intimidated by the likes of them. "And now it looks like they're stranding you without a team. I'd offer to let you join Smallville, but..."

 

"But I'm already being singled out for associating with you, and if I keep it up in formal competitions my coach is going to come down on me. Again." Bruce touched the edge of his fading bruise.

 

"That, and we've got the maximum number of people. Honestly I'm surprised they let you go, you're pretty athletic and a team of four against teams of five aren't going to be able to accomplish much."

 

"You don't think so? Five people is a lot of ego and coordination to deal with. If you're in a dangerous and unfamiliar environment like the woods it'd be easier for five people to trip each other up then for four."

 

"City boy."

 

'What?"

 

"Nothing. So, you think a smaller team would have a better shot?"

 

"Well it would depend on the objectives, but yes. A game played at night sounds like it would require stealth. Unless they knew exactly what the objectives were and had time to scout the environment and practice tactics as a team then five would probably just get in each other's way or slow the group down, assuming they don't devolve into an argument over leadership."

 

Clark was chewing his lip. It was very distracting. Could his own teeth break his skin? (Could Bruce's?)

 

"Okay!"

 

"Huh?!" Bruce jerked his eyes back up to meet Clark's. He had popped the lenses out of his glasses, but no one else had seemed to notice. "Sorry, I was planning, what?"

 

"Let's be on a team together."

 

"What? But... Smallville-"

 

"You said yourself they'd do better with a smaller group. You and I work well together, and we've got enough talent and smarts between us to make up for the lack of members."

 

Bruce hesitated. It was tempting but...

 

Clark arched an eyebrow at him as the silence stretched. "Unless you _wanted_ to play alone?"

 

"I'm used to being alone," Bruce said stiffly.

 

"That doesn't mean it's always to your advantage."  Clark nudged him with his elbow.  "Don't you want to show those guys that you don't need them?"

 

"I don't care what they think."

 

"Well don't you want to have some fun with this?  Instead of losing early and moping."

 

"I don't _mope_!"

 

"Oh that's right, you _brood_."

 

Bruce sputtered for a moment before managing, "Do you want to be a team with me or not?"

 

"Yes, I do."  Clark grinned, in that infuriating way people did when they knew they were right.

 

"Well then."  Bruce folded his arms.  "Let's review the rules and formulate a strategy."

 

"Got 'em."  Clark took half of a pink sheet of paper out of his pocket, along with a rubber band and a couple wadded napkins.  "Uh... yeah, this is it.  Here."

 

Bruce took the paper gingerly.  Clark was right, the rules looked simple.  But with two people they could split the bonuses between them more easily, and hopefully avoid being caught.

 

"What do you think?" Clark asked.

 

"We need more research."  Bruce glanced around the campfire area they had drifted to again.  "Let's scout out the forest."

 

"Be careful," Clark cautioned. "That's what Pete was doing when your teammates ambushed him. I think a lot of people are trying that, everybody's trying to get an edge."

 

"I don't see why, it's just a stupid game."

 

"Does that mean you don't want to win?" Clark said with a grin.

 

"Of course I want to win. We deserve to, we're the best."

 

"Good, because the prize is awesome."

 

Bruce checked the paper again. "A trip to the observatory?"

 

"And a chance to meet Dr. Heiser! He discovered the Heiser-Wilde comet. Plus there are rumors going around that the winners of the competitions get hints about the final challenge at the end of the summer."

 

"Well, at least it'll get us out of this camp for a night."

 

"I love how you take it for granted that we'll win."

 

"Don't be stupid Clark, of course we're going to win."

 

***

 

"Do you own any shoes that aren't polished leather? Like, stuff you can actually wear outside instead of on a ballroom floor?"

 

"You can wear these anywhere. I feed them enough. And they're perfectly broken in."

 

"Okay nothing you just said made sense to me.  Just... get a hoodie."

 

Bruce wrinkled his nose.  It made him look younger, which was to say, his own age.

 

Clark had never met someone who knew so little about the world.  Bruce had a vocabulary like a scrabble dictionary, and he could quote you statistics about everything, but he dressed like a character in a romantic comedy.  The rich jerk who would be dumped by the female lead at the end.

 

"Will this do?" Bruce held up a black wool peacoat with a buttoned-on hood.  Clark sighed heavily.

 

"You don't have anything more casual?"

 

"Not with a hood."  His next offering had leather patches on the elbows.

 

"Oh my god. No. Okay, the first one, and I'm mussing your hair."

 

"What, why?"

 

"Principle."  Clark ran his fingers through Bruce's perfect part.  It made his face look softer, and not even the scowl could add too many years now.

 

"There. Okay. It's too bad we can't don't have ski masks or something, but that might be too obvious."

 

"Also it's summer.  Why would we have ski masks?  I only brought coats in case it rained."

 

"We're trying to hide, remember? This was your idea."

 

"Dark clothes should be enough.  Once we find the dolls, we'll be an easy target anyway."  Bruce shrugged on the coat and pulled the hood up.  It was deep, and hid his face pretty well.

 

They didn't really look like they belonged together.  Clark's darkest hoodie was a blue Jayhawks one he'd had for years, the logo on the front faded enough that it wouldn't be noticeable.  He had some black jeans, but they were faded too, and had a permanent stain on one shin from changing the oil in his dad's truck.  Bruce, on the other hand, looked like a Land's End catalog, and only his recently-ruffled hair betrayed the fact he wasn't a mannequin.  All his clothes were so dark black that he might stand out _more_.

 

"This is good enough," Bruce declared.  "Let's go."

 

Clark picked up his emergency flashlight and followed him into the night.

 

***

 

Bruce was like a machine in the dark.  He slipped behind trees, climbed into branches, disappeared even from Clark's sight for ten minutes at a time.  Every time Clark thought for sure he'd been caught, there he was with another glowstick prize, calling him back to their base.

 

But with only two of them, they couldn't haul in as many points, and as the hours passed Clark started to wonder why the game was still dragging on.  Surely someone had to find the last one eventually, right?

 

"Bruce?" he whispered. "Can you see anyone else?"

 

"Most of the teams have washed out and gone back to base by now. We're in the top... four, I'd say," Bruce whispered back, sounding pleased.

 

"Hang on, I'm coming up." Climbing trees was theoretically easier when you didn't have to pay attention to gravity, but somehow being aware of another person watching made him try harder than usual to stay earthbound. It made for clumsy climbing, and he didn't need enhanced vision to see the wince cross Bruce's face when he finally threw himself across the high branch he'd taken up station in.

 

"I thought farm boys were better at nature-related activities."

 

Clark bypassed annoyance at the jab and went straight to delight at the cautious, teasing tone. "Did you just make a joke? Like, on purpose?"

 

"Don't get used to it," Bruce said, turning back to watch the forest. This high up Clark could see the trees bathed in moonlight, a stark contrast to the shadowy blackness down at ground level. Bruce drew his attention with a slight jerk in the direction of the hills. "I last saw two of the teams headed that way. It looked like the Gotham team was stalking the New Orleans team. They were headed towards the caves."

 

"The caves we were very specifically told not to go near because they're unstable?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Of course."

 

Bruce smirked a little as he started climbing down. "We're teenagers, if they didn't want us going there they shouldn't have told us not to."

 

It wasn't very far to the caves, but the combination of darkness and having to hide at every noise made it drag on. They managed to avoid the counselors, thank goodness. For adults charged with the safety of the campers, they were a little too enthusiastic about hitting them with foam sticks to tag them out. They finally managed to sneak around the mouth of the cave, carefully staying out of the moonlight and avoid disturbing the warning gates dragged across the entrance.

 

"Okay, be careful, there might be snakes or bats or-"

 

"There's no bats."

 

"What?"

 

"It's mostly red bats around here. They prefer to sleep in trees. At this time of night they'd probably still be out eating anyway."  Bruce paused.  "We may need to watch out for rats and foxes though."

 

"How do you know so much about caves?" Clark asked, stopping again to try to peer into the darkness. If he squinted just right...

 

"My house is built on a cave system. ...we have a lot of bats."

 

"Okay? Cool." His eyes were watering a little, but he could see through the dark. There was no telltale light from the glowstick they were looking for, and he was just about to shrug off the hunch when he heard a grunt. Focusing again, he could suddenly see the skeletal outlines of the two teams inside. He shivered a little, it had been months since he'd learned to do this and it still creeped him out. But it was useful for once, he didn't need light to see exactly what was going on in the cave.

 

"Crap," he muttered.

 

"What?" Bruce hissed, suddenly tense.

 

"Looks like your friends are trying to mess with the New Orleans team. Looks like they're pushing them around."

 

"Let me see."

 

Clark bit back a comment as Bruce pressed up against his side to peek into the cave as well.

 

"I can't see anything," Bruce grumbled, an edge of suspicion coloring his words.

 

"Well, can you hear it? Sounds like they're..." Clark squinted like that would help. "Threatening them? Telling them to drop out and go back to base?"

 

"So normal tactics in a highly competitive game?"

 

"It sounds bad. And they were shoving them."

 

"It's four on five. We can't exactly accuse them of bullying, especially in the middle of a game. If we call the counselors we'll all get tagged."

 

"Okay, so what do you think we should do."

 

Bruce chewed his lip for a moment, staring into space. Clark found himself biting his own lip and made himself stop.

 

"I'm going in. Stay here and keep watch."

 

"What? But there's four, _nine_ opponents-"

 

"I know my way around caves, I'll stick to the walls and get behind them before they see me." Before Clark could think of a rebuttal Bruce had jumped to his feet, pulled his hood up and vanished over the gate into the dark.

 

Clark pressed himself back against the side of the hill, taking a moment to make sure no one was lurking in the forest around them. He crawled away from the mouth of the cave, following the curve of the hill's base, trying to track skeleton-Bruce's progress. It was hard to focus on using his eyes and ears at the same time, and he had to blink away tears from the strain. He seriously hoped his eyes wouldn't stick like this, it was aching just to keep it up for this long.

 

The ringleader, Clark was pretty sure his name was Tom, was laughing.  All the Gotham team-members had several inches on the New Orleans ones, and were standing close enough to use that.  "You know it's against the rules to hide your glowsticks."

 

One of the New Orleanians, one of the few girls at the camp, mumbled something about a lot of things being against the rules.

 

"You know you didn't stand a chance anyway.  Just hand them over and we'll all go back to camp."

 

"Maybe you should hand yours over," a boy snapped.  "Since we're kicking your asses already. Just give up with dignity."

 

Tom laughed again, and suddenly loomed over the boy and jabbed him in the shoulder.  "Funny. Very funny. It'd be a shame for a funny guy like you to be out of bounds and end up hurt... If only class clowns were better at reading signs."

 

Clark could see Bruce now, looking like a ridiculous pantomime of stealth and he inched around the oblivious groups to the back of the cave. Clark was biting his lip in earnest now, how could they not see him standing right there?

 

It was getting harder to hear as the tension in Clark's head grew, but he managed to make out a boy saying "Signs? There weren't any signs."

 

"Suuure there were. There's a danger sign right _HERE_."

 

It was a very strange experience to see a skeleton get punched by another. The bones didn't quite impact but Clark could still hear them grinding together under the sudden shrieking, and watching the New Orleans boy's head snap back made Clark's own head throb in sympathy. He could hear Bruce shouting too now, and between the sudden rush of worry and the shock of the violence his head felt like it was splitting open, starting with his eyes.

 

He blinked six times fast and the world went red. It took a few seconds to realize that his eyes weren't melting, the stone in front of him was. He didn't know how hot rocks had to be to become a liquid but he couldn't deny the reality of molten lava -holy crap this was lava- splashing down towards his feet. He jumped back, yelling, but the sounds was covered by the groan as the hillside impossibly, improbably, unbelievably _tilted_ and started sliding towards him.

 

The roaring of several tons of falling rock somehow didn't manage to cover of the screaming of the kids still inside.

 

Clark wasn't thinking, but his feet were moving, carrying him through the entrance of the cave until his arms were around something warm and wriggling, and then back out.  He did this two more times before he even realized what he was doing, and then there was no question of stopping.

 

The kids had the sense to start running as soon as they were back in the open air, but the rockslide wasn't so kind as to stop just because a few potential victims had gotten away.  He was too scared to try and see who was still inside.  He was pretty sure he'd managed two people on each trip, which meant only one was still in there, and if he'd grabbed Bruce already surely he would have noticed?

 

The rocks were still piling up so Clark dug in with his bare hands, tossing them aside without concern for size or weight. It didn't matter, it hadn't mattered in a long time, except for stopping anyone from seeing him.  But right now it mattered even less.

 

A few more stones and Clark's fingers broke through to empty space.  He kicked the last of the rubble away and whipped his head around in the darkness, listening for any signs of-

 

Someone coughed. Clark scooped them up, feeling wool under his fingers and smelling expensive mousse. Definitely Bruce.

 

"You okay?" He asked.  There were only a few pebbles and dirt streams drifting down the hill now.

 

"I... think so.  Clark?"

 

"Come on."

 

He had to clear out his hole a little more, but did it one-handed, inexplicably reluctant to let go of Bruce even though the immediate danger had passed. They emerged, sweaty and dirty, into the night air and the sounds of shouting and safety whistles.

 

"What was that?" Bruce demanded.  "Did you see what happened?"

 

"Uh... sort of."

 

Bruce stared at him.  "Did you _do_ that?"

 

"Do what?" Clark stammered.

 

"All of it, any of it."

 

"I... Let's get out of here. The ground might still be unstable."

 

Clark carried him up the hill, still reluctant to let go, and Bruce wasn't complaining.  It wasn't until he saw the flashlights of the counselors that he felt comfortable enough to put him down.

 

"Are you hurt?" Clark asked again.  Maybe Bruce had hurt his ankle, and that's why he hadn't minded being carried.

 

"No, I'm fine."

 

"Let me see."

 

Bruce waved away his hands, and chuckled.  "I'm okay, really."

 

It was the first time Clark had seen him smile.  It looked good on him.  Like he really did belong on a magazine cover.

 

"What about everyone else?" Bruce asked.  "I take it that was you getting them out?"

 

"Uh, what makes you think- yeah, that was me," Clark admitted, hunching awkwardly under the withering look Bruce shot him.

 

"I see. So what exactly is that? Some kind of... what, super-speed? And I saw you throw a boulder the size of a table without even looking, so I know you're strong too. And that's in addition to-"

 

"Look Bruce, I know you want answers, but can we really not do this out in the open?" Clark shot a pained look towards the gathering crowd by the collapsed cave. There were already strips of caution tape going up, vivid in the moonlight. He tried to avoid looking at Bruce again, but the intense gaze eventually drew him back in. They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Bruce slowly nodded.

 

"All right. But I do want answers."

 

"There's... not a whole lot I can tell you..."

 

"Clark, I almost died tonight. Nine other people almost died tonight. Even if you did save us, if there's something going on, something that might happen again, I have a right to know what to expect."

 

Clark opened his mouth to protest, but the fading headache twinging behind his eyes, the dried tears on his face, were enough to give him pause. "I- I'm not sure I know what to expect either." He hated the way his voice came out, soft and scared, and he suddenly desperately wanted to be back at home. His parents didn't always know what to do with him or his powers, but they were as steady as a rock and supportive enough to carry him through the stranger times.

 

Bruce's face twitched into a frown, then softened with uncertainty. He took a deep breath and looked back at the remains of the cave. "Well... maybe we can figure it out together."

 

"I... I'm really tired."  Clark rubbed his face.  "Can we talk in the morning?"

 

"Sure.  You're not going to disappear on me, right?"

 

He tried to laugh, but all that came out was air.  "I promise."

 

They blended back into the shadows and headed for the cabins.  They split up at Clark's, Bruce extracting another promise to talk the next day.

 

Tired as he was, Clark wasn't sure he would be able to sleep.  He'd never deliberately told anyone about his powers before.  His parents learned about them when he did, usually, and helped him test the limits.  Whatever happened with his eyes back there was new.

 

Now Bruce was going to want to know everything.  How much could he get away with hiding? Should he? How would Bruce react to knowing his new friend wasn't even human?

  
With all that swirling in his head, Clark fell asleep before he had any answers.


	2. Chapter 2

The whole camp seemed grouchy at breakfast.  The game had run long, then there was a rockslide, then this morning's announcement that the results of the game were still being counted, then more than a few students had to field calls from their worried parents.

 

Clark was one of them. He didn't know how word had gotten out so fast, but it was good to talk to someone who understood.  With the counselors listening he couldn't talk about what was  really  bothering him, but when he assured his mom everything was fine, she knew what he meant.

 

He didn't get the chance to see Bruce until they were both called to the office shack between lessons.  Someone forcing cheerfulness shoved a couple of envelopes into their hands and congratulated them.

 

"Uh... What just happened?"

 

"I think we won the game last night."  Bruce pulled out a nail file and slit his envelope open.  "A pass to the observatory."

 

"We won?  I thought we weren't even in the top three."

 

"Third, perhaps.  And if Gotham Prep was disqualified, and the New Orleans team lost some of their points..."

 

"You think?"

 

"I can do some digging."  Bruce's eyes found Clark's.  Eyes that he was afraid to focus too hard, in case he triggered that whatever-it-was from last night.  "Do you have a moment?"

 

"I kind of have my next lesson."

 

"So do I."

 

Bruce kept their eyes locked until Clark looked away.  "You're  really  staring at me.  More than usual."

 

"Sorry.  I'm told I stare."

 

"You do."  Clark sighed, defeated.  "So we'll just say we're drilling each other, right?"

 

The stare lightened.  "Sounds good to me."

 

When it wasn't feeding teenagers, the canteen was used for students to work on projects or private lessons.  It was quiet now, and easy for Clark and Bruce to seclude themselves in a corner and spread out their worksheets to discourage anyone sitting near them.

 

"Where should I start?"

 

Bruce had taken out a notebook that was already full of his neat, square handwriting, and was hovering a ballpoint pen over the page.  "A concise list of your abilities above human norm."

 

"Uh..." Concise would be hard.  Especially since he still wasn't sure what he'd done to that cave.  Melted it?  Set off a cave-in that was already bound to happen?  "Invulnerability, I guess. That was the first one. Haven't found anything that can hurt me yet. And strength, and uh.  Flight."

 

Bruce blinked at him. "You can  fly ? How?"

 

"Not sure.  It just kind of happens. And I can hear and see and pretty much everything better than normal.  And I can see  through  things."

 

"Wait, hold on."  Bruce was scribbling furiously in his notebook.  "In what way?"

 

"It's like x-rays.  Except not, because, I don't think x-rays work that way? But I can see people's skeletons."

 

Bruce stopped in the middle of writing.  "That's how you saw what my classmates were doing in the cave."

 

"Yeah."  Clark shrugged.  "It comes in handy sometimes."  Bruce continued writing, and Clark hesitated.  "Are you sure you should be writing this down?  I don't know if you've noticed but, I'm not exactly trying to draw attention."

 

"Don't worry, it's all in code.  Shorthand and cipher whenever I need to write something more detailed."

 

"Have you... have you been keeping notes on me this whole time?"

 

Bruce's ears turned red.  "That's not important.  Now, when did you learn you could do all this?  Was there an incident that triggered it, or-"

 

"Wait, I'm not finished."

 

"What?"

 

"I can also move really fast, although I'm not sure if that's just an extension of my strength? Because, muscles. And then also last night I think... I think I may have melted stone. With my eyes."

 

Bruce wasn't writing.  "You... melted stone."

 

"I think."

 

"So..." Using his pen, Bruce ticked off the powers he'd written down.  "You have, if we combine speed with strength, and all your senses, five powers."

 

"I guess."

 

Bruce put the pen down and began rubbing his forehead.

 

"Sorry?"

 

"No, no, don't apologize.  It's only... I predicted two, maybe three."  He pushed his knuckles into his temples.  "Okay.  Go on."

 

Clark bit his lip.  "To be honest, this is the first time I've really talked about all this.  Just listing it off like that.  My parents know of course, but... it feels weird."

 

Bruce's stare was just a little bit south of his eyes this time.  "I..." He closed his eyes for a moment.  "I appreciate you telling me. Trusting me."

 

"There's something else."  This was it, this was the moment he'd been rehearsing in his head since he learned about it.

 

"What?"

 

"You asked if something happened to me, to give me these powers.  Well... something did.  When I was a baby."

 

"A baby? What?"

 

Clark took a breath.  "I was sent to Earth."

 

Bruce dropped his pen.  It rolled off the table, and he made no move to pick it up.  " What ?"

 

"I'm an alien."  It sounded lame when he said it like that.  "I look human.  I mean, all over, doctors never even noticed.  But I was born on another planet, and sent to Earth in an escape pod."  Clark chuckled to himself.  "I still have the pod.  Even my baby blankets.  My parents- adoptive parents, I guess- they saved them."

 

"You... you..." Bruce shook his head.  "You're serious."

 

"Yeah."

 

"This is a lot to take in."

 

"Believe me, try learning it about yourself, from a hologram."

 

"A hologram."

 

"Yeah, it came with the pod. It's, uh...my birth father."

 

"A hologram of an alien. Included in an...escape pod. Capable of interplanetary travel. Containing an infant alien. Sent to Earth. Where it was adopted by humans. In Kansas. The baby then developed superpowers. And now it's at the same math camp as me."

 

Clark squirmed and tried not to be offended. It was a lot to take in, sure, but calling him an "it" wasn't really helping. Bruce didn't notice, staring off into space above his head. His hand was still hovering in midair from when he dropped his pen. Clark coughed quietly. "It's also sitting right across from you listening to you call him an it?"

 

"I'm sorry," he said quickly.  "I didn't mean it like that.  I should have known you'd be sensitive to that sort of thing."

 

"Well, it is kind of dehumanizing!"

 

"De-  you're not human !"

 

Clark flinched. It hurt, hearing it like that. His hands twitched and he could feel his face twisting, heating up. He closed his eyes hurriedly. It didn't feel like it had last night, but better safe than sorry. (Better safe than melting Bruce's face off.)

 

Bruce made a choked noise across the table from him. Clark firmly kept his eyes shut, even when he heard the notebook shut and Bruce fumbling on the ground for his pen.

 

"I didn't… quite mean it. Like that. I just..." Bruce sighed. "This is a lot to take in. I just need some time to process it. I'll- I'll see you at dinner."

 

Footsteps, and then silence. Clark very slowly lowered his head onto the table. For a minute his head was blessedly empty, drained of thought and numb to emotion.

 

Silence, then footsteps. "Well that didn't look good."

 

"Not now, Pete," Clark groaned, regretting it as soon as the words came out. He could really use an actual friend right now, not just some stuffy rich guy treating him like a science project or a bug to be dissected. Thankfully Pete had been his friend long enough to not be deterred by a sulk.

 

"No, really. Did the wonderteam break up, or is this just a lover's quarrel?"

 

"Pete!" Clark's head jerked up to glare in mortification at Pete's laughing face.

 

"Aw, c'mon, everybody's talking about you two."

 

"Everyone's- we're not even doing anything," Clark said, hoping he didn't sound half as flustered as he felt.

 

"Nope, just turning your backs on your friends and comrades to form a dream team of black-haired blue-eyed brilliance. Romeo and Juliet of the camp, here. Two mathlete teams, both alike in dignity-"

 

"Aw shut up Pete," Clark groaned, head hitting the table much faster this time.

 

"Seriously though, you ditched out on us awfully fast yesterday, and now people say you won the game together, just the two of you. We don't have to worry about you defecting to the rich snot camp, do we?"

 

"No, it's the other way around. Bruce's team hates him, and he can't stand them because they're bullies." Clark snorted under his breath. "If anything we should be fitting him for a plaid shirt."

 

"Hey, yeah, we should! Get him a pair of overalls, a decent straw hat, we'll have him driving tractors and tipping cows in no time!"

 

Clark couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of stereotypical-farmer-Bruce trying to push over a cow. Pete laughed along with him, and for just a minute everything was back to normal again. Then he remembered why things weren't normal, why they would never be normal, and every bit of laughter slowly drained out of him.

 

Pete's laugh tapered off too, but Clark couldn't bring himself to look at his friend. For a second he hated Bruce, hated him for robbing Clark of his fun and his friends and his nice normal summer at camp learning how to blend in, learning how to  act human-

 

"Hey," Pete snapped. "Whatever he said to you, it's not true. And I'm gonna punch him if he keeps saying it, okay?"

 

"No! No, don't fight, it's not him, it's-" Clark swallowed hard. "It's me. It's… he found out some stuff, and he- he didn't take it well."

 

Pete was frowning at him, but he no longer looked ready to actually take a swing at someone. "Hey, it's not because of the liking-guys thing is it? Because if small-town Kansas boys can accept it more than a big city swank can, then television has lied to us about the decadent lives of moral decay the upper class leads."

 

And just like that they were back to laughing. Clark had missed this. Maybe it  would be good to take some time away from Bruce, give them both a chance to breathe and find balance again.

 

***

 

Bruce was panting for breath so hard he almost fell off the branch he was clinging to. He forced himself to hang on though, to reach higher and haul himself up another painful few inches. He had managed to make it a little ways into the woods before his brain had processed the information enough to inform him that yes, this was a meltdown, and no, it was not going to wait for him to find a room with a door he could lock to preserve his dignity.

 

So here he was, twenty feet up a tree, panting on the edge of hyperventilation, hoping desperately that no one was around to see him.

 

Metahumans. Okay. Bruce had planned for that. And there were places on Earth that seemed to produce them.  But aliens?  Somehow, even though it shouldn't have been, that was the final straw.

 

Maybe it was just that fact that Clark, the first friend he'd made in a long time, wasn't... was... different.

 

Bruce rested his forehead on the rough bark of the tree and focused on breathing. Clark was Clark, right? Of course. It changed nothing. And, logically, he'd known that all along. Logically, Bruce knew a lot of things.

 

He stayed like that, staring at nothing, alternating between deep slow breaths and shallow shaky ones, until he heard the clamoring of campers heading between buildings.  A new lesson period, or maybe he'd missed two already.  Either way, he felt calm enough to climb down and head back to his cabin to put himself back in order.

 

He spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between staring at his notes and trying to focus on his lessons. After all, just because some...species... could break the laws of physics, didn't mean he didn't need to learn them. And really? Flying? “It just kind of happens?” He definitely wasn't buying that. At least until he could see it for himself.

 

He gave up on focusing after he found himself staring out the window while doodling birds and bats in flight.

 

***

 

Clark was sitting with his friends at dinner. Of course, why wouldn't he? It's not like they had stopped being a team just because Bruce and Clark had paired off for a night. He ate with them every morning while the teams did their morning drills. Just because he and Bruce had been sharing lunch and dinner together for a week or so didn't mean they had to have every lunch and dinner together.

 

It didn't make Bruce feel like any less of an idiot standing in the middle of the canteen with his tray, staring at the back of Clark's head in what he prayed didn't look like bewildered rejection. His face felt hot and he knew he was going to draw attention, but he knew instinctively that whirling around to walk away would draw just as much if not more attention. And fleeing was a sign of weakness. Being visibly upset to the point of running away would be as good as painting a target on his back for the rest of camp.

 

Fortunately he was spared the agony of deciding by having Clark's friend catch his eye and wave him over with a grin. Bruce felt his back going straight and taut even as he walked slowly forward. There was absolutely no reason for Pete to be smiling at him like that. He must be up to something.

 

The whole table was looking at him by the time he reached the bench next to Clark. He glanced at Clark's curious face to make sure before he set his tray down, sitting gingerly at the edge of the table. "Hello," he said belatedly, mentally kicking himself. He'd dined with corporate moguls and international royalty before he was five, a table full of boys his own age should pose no threat to his dignity.

 

Clark coughed.  "Guys, this is Bruce.  Bruce, this is Pete, Jack, Billy, and Josh."

 

There was a round of greetings, only mostly half-hearted.  "Nice to meet you all," Bruce said.

 

"So Bruce, help us settle an argument," Pete began.  Clark glared at him, and his upper body twitched like he'd just tried to kick him under the table.

 

"Okay..."

 

"Would you rather get a free year-long trip around the world? Or get to go to the moon for thirty minutes?"

 

Bruce blinked.  His knee-jerk reaction was that either one of those things was within reach with enough money and effort, but clearly that wasn't the point of this question.

 

"The... trip around the world?"

 

Two guys groaned, Clark nodded.

 

"Okay," Pete said, keeping his face carefully blank.  "Why?"

 

"Well... you'd get more out of it?  I mean.  The moon is farther, and fewer people have been there, but it's really just a rock.  We know as much about it as we probably ever will, or need to.  You could see a lot more traveling around the world."

 

"But from the moon you could  see  the world," one of the guys said, Jack probably.

 

"Only half of it," Bruce countered.  "Less, if some was in shadow."

 

Jack shook his head.  "You don't get it.  He doesn't get it."

 

"I honestly don't."

 

"I agree with you," Clark said.  "Think of how much you could learn with a whole year to go anywhere!"

 

"But not the moon!" Jack protested.

 

Everyone began to argue the respective merits of various heavenly bodies, while Bruce settled in to eat and let it wash over him.  Somehow, impossibly, he'd been accepted. For now.

 

"Bruce," Pete suddenly rounded on him.  "Practicality aside, let's say you have everything you need to survive and come back, which planet would you explore?"

 

"Uh..." Was this a test? "Earth."

 

Pete laughed.  "No, really."

 

"Really.  Earth's the most interesting.  No other planet has life.  You could explore a small part of any of them and get the full picture."

 

There were a few exchanges of glances over the table.  Bruce began to feel like he'd failed.

 

"But... um... Ganymede?"

 

"Not a planet, but okay," Pete said.  He gave Clark what appeared to be a very significant look.

 

Clark made a face back and cut in. "Even if you could go to another planet, it'd be boring on its own. No one to explore with, or discuss your findings, or show cool things to-"

 

"Or watch your back in case Martians attack!" one of the other piped up. It was met with general laughter, and Clark cracked, in Bruce's opinion, a very weak smile.

 

"Aw, you don't believe there are aliens in our own solar system do you?"

 

"There's very little evidence supporting it," Bruce mumbled.

 

"Well I guess you two'll be finding out soon."

 

"Um. What do you mean?" Bruce asked cautiously, when Clark shot him a confused look.

 

"You guys won the trip to the observatory! You're gonna have all night to talk to scientists and check out other planets for signs of life."

 

"Oh… yeah. Yeah, I guess we will." Clark's shoulders unclenched a bit, just enough to make Bruce notice that he'd been tense in the first place.

 

"I should think we'd be spending it on actual science, not conspiracy theories," Bruce tried to interject smoothly. Judging from the glares he got from half the table and the eyerolls from the other half, he didn't succeed.

 

***

 

"Your friends don't like me."

 

Clark glanced back over his shoulder and tried to smile reassuringly. He didn't know Bruce that well even after two weeks, but he knew that flat tone of voice could hide a lot of emotion. "They just haven't warmed up to you yet. You're a pretty-"  don't say difficult "-private guy. And. Getting to know you can be..."

 

"Difficult," Bruce finished, tone still flat and displeased.

 

Clark sighed. "Not quite the word I'd use, but...yeah. Maybe if you tried opening up a little?"

 

"I answered all of their questions," Bruce shot back, sounding frustrated. "What else was I supposed to do?"

 

"Nothing, nothing. You're not really supposed to do anything. Just… be yourself and the people who deserve you will find you," Clark said, trying for a bit of wisdom his pa told him when he was worried about going to school for the first time.

 

"You sound like you got that out of a book of sappy proverbs."

 

"My pa said it." Clark tried not to make the words sound as tight as he felt.

 

"...Sorry."

 

Clark huffed and sighed a little. "Do you even know what you're sorry for, or are you trying to make it a 'get out of annoying Clark free' card?" He walked three steps before he realized that Bruce wasn't tagging along after him any more. He turned around to see the blank, neutral look back on Bruce's face. After a week of being able to peek under the mask it felt like a door slamming in his face.

 

"If I'm bothering you, I can go," Bruce stated politely, turning to leave. Clark flashed forward just a bit faster than intended, catching him by the elbow, earning a sharp look. More interested than upset though, and Clark seized on the chance to get them back to what passed for normal.

 

"Did you have more questions for me?" The tight-lipped look he got told him he wasn't being subtle, but the interest in Bruce's eyes didn't wane and he was no longer trying to leave. Clark pressed the advantage. "I mean, I understand if you're busy tonight, teammates to stalk, trophies to win, corporations to run… trying to think up something new in your mansion to gold-plate..." He was stretching, but it him got the ghost of a smile, and he was suddenly reminded of how cute Bruce could be when he was in the right mood.

 

"I was thinking the banisters next, I've already got the toilets and all the door handles, and since I don't have to lift a finger to take care of myself that's really the only thing left in the house I touch..." The crack sounded rehearsed, and Clark had the feeling Bruce had used it before.

 

"I'm surprised you even open doors, don't rich folks have butlers for that kind of heavy lifting?" he asked innocently.

 

"Doormen, actually, a butler runs the whole household."

 

Clark laughed.  "Consider me educated."

 

"Okay, my turn."  Bruce paused for a moment, seemed to be consulting an internal list.  "You don't get hurt."

 

"That's not a question."

 

"Can anything hurt you?"

 

"Eh..." Clark rubbed the back of his neck.  "Only under specific circumstances."

 

"Is it only impact resistance, or cutting as well?"

 

"What like, knives? No."

 

"Wait," Bruce froze.  "Has someone tried to stab you?"

 

"No no. A tractor ran over my arm once though. I had to work it off for a whole year to pay back my pa."

 

"Your  arm  broke the- Never mind, I don't know why I'm surprised by this."  Bruce looked skyward for a moment.  "Do you know much about, uh... where you were born?"

 

"Not much," Clark admitted.  "I know my abilities aren't normal, if that's what you mean.  It's Earth, well, the sun.  If someone else from there came here, they'd have the same powers."

 

"That's not encouraging."

 

"I'm pretty sure they're all dead, if that helps."

 

Bruce winced.  "I'm... sorry."

 

Clark shrugged.  "I didn't know them. Any of them. I didn't even know about this until a couple years ago. It's sort of weird, like I can't really understand it, even though I do. Like I should be feeling more."

 

"More what?"

 

"I don't know. Grief?"

 

"You didn't know them."

 

"No."  Clark found himself sighing.  "You know, I was mad for a while?  At my parents, my real- my adoptive parents, I mean.  Not very long though.  I love them.  And if I never knew my birth parents, it's not like I lost anything."

 

Bruce didn't say anything.  It was an awkward topic, so Clark moved on.

 

"All I know about the planet is, it was called Krypton, and it's gone.  In pieces.  I don't even know why."

 

"The hologram didn't tell you?"

 

"No.  I guess he didn't know, or didn't want me seeking revenge or something."  Clark shrugged again.  "It's not healthy, revenge.  And what could I do, a billion miles away?"

 

"Prevent it from happening again?" Bruce suggested.

 

"I don't even know if it was outside influence.  Maybe the planet just blew up.  Planets can do that."

 

"Not often."

 

"Well... it's not worth dwelling on.  Not for me.  I have a life, sort of, and my birth parents sent me away to have one."

 

"How thoughtful of them."

 

"Ha. Something like that.  I mean I guess they must have loved me but I was only a baby, I don't..." Thinking a few words ahead, Clark had been about to say something about Bruce's parents. Until he remembered.

 

"Oh god." Clark buried his face in his hands.  "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."

 

"Sorry for what?" Bruce asked mildly.

 

"Talking about my birth parents like I don't even  care .  I'm so sorry."

 

"Oh."  Bruce's voice was flat.  "So you do know.  I wasn't sure."

 

"I'm an idiot."    He didn't dare look up.

 

"You forgot. It's not your fault. I forget sometimes."

 

Clark looked up, stunned into eye contact.  Bruce's face was impassive.  "That may be the worst thing I have ever heard."

 

Bruce shrugged one shoulder.  "Am I right in understanding that you didn't have your powers as a baby?"

 

"Oh, uh... Right. Yes. I only started getting them the last few years."

 

"So if there was another survivor, they wouldn't have powers on Earth unless they lived here for a while?"

 

"I really don't know."

 

Bruce made a humming noise and started walking again. Clark slowly trailed after him, trying to remember where they had been headed. He had been walking back to his cabin after dinner, but Bruce had clearly wanted to talk so they'd looped off into the forest. They were deep enough that he didn't worry about being overheard by other campers, but he still didn't like talking about the whole not-from-Earth thing out loud.

 

"You say you get your powers from the sun, correct?"

 

Clark blinked. "Uh, yeah. I'm solar-powered."

 

Bruce chewed his lip absently as he slowly phrased his next question. "If you were… cut off from the sun… for a period of time, would you lose your powers?"

 

"You mean like if someone kidnapped me and locked me in a windowless room I couldn't get out of?" Clark's voice was a little harsh, and Bruce flinched a little, but Clark refused to feel bad. He'd had enough nightmares about being taken away from his parents and sequestered at some government science lab to be comfortable with the train of thought Bruce was following.

 

"I wouldn't go that far, but… maybe. Hypothetically, if you lived in a cave or something."

 

Clark sighed heavily. "I really don't know. Maybe... probably not. I mean, how long would it take a regular person to lose their tan and get vitamin D deficiency? Plus it's not like I lose my powers during the rainy season when it's all gray out, or at night."

 

"That makes sense, I suppose." Bruce made a face. "All right, so you have lots of powers and they're not going away anytime soon."

 

"Sure doesn't seem that way," Clark muttered, a little more bitterly than he meant to.  And of course Bruce picked up on it immediately.

 

"Would you rather not have them?"

 

"I don't know? It would be easier, but sometimes it's fun. And I've helped people. I saved my dad once, and a bus."

 

"You saved a bus?"

 

"It only had the driver in it, but yeah."  Clark smiled a little.  "If I can, I should help people, right?"

 

"I- I guess so."  Bruce fixed his eyes on the ground for some reason.

 

"So uh. Anything else?"

 

"Not off the top of my head."  Bruce scratched his neck.  "But... we're going to the observatory tomorrow, right?"

 

"Oh yeah, right. That'll be fun! We'll have to think of some questions to ask there."

 

Clark turned back in the direction of camp and set off again, slightly more cheerful. "We can ask about the comet! And maybe stuff about the moon."

 

"Mm. Clark?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Do... you think maybe your friends..."

 

"Bruce, I promise, wanting to live on Earth and not the moon is not going to make them dislike you. It was just a game."

 

"I knew that. It was just a bit odd. Pete kept giving you looks."

 

"Oh, he uh..." Clark coughed. "That was about something else."

 

"What?"

 

"I'll tell you when you're older."

 

"I'm barely a year younger than you, you jerk!"

 

"You'll understand when you're older!" Clark laughed and broke into a sprint, letting Bruce chase him all the way back to the cabins.

 

***

 

"I'm a dork," Clark groaned, burying his face in his hands.

 

" We're dorks," Bruce corrected.

 

"I sounded like an idiot."

 

"It wasn't that bad. I'm sure they get much worse questions."  Bruce gave Clark's shoulder an awkward pat.  "I didn't sound any better."

 

The van had dropped them off near the cabins, but by silent agreement they headed off onto one of the trails instead of going to bed. Clark managed all of two steps into the trees before succumbing to embarrassment.

 

"It was fun though?" Bruce said.  "I've never gotten to use an observatory telescope before."

 

"You haven't? I would have thought you could just donate a couple million and get to use one whenever you want."

 

"I probably could," Bruce admitted.  "But the Gotham observatory is pretty well-funded."

 

"Do they have gala dinners under the stars?"

 

Bruce laughed.  "You don't know what light pollution is, do you?"

 

"I'm not  that  big of an idiot."

 

"The observatory's actually a good four hour's drive out of the city. And even there you can't see much."

 

"Wow.  How big is Gotham?"

 

"About ten million people. Is it weird that I know that off the top of my head?"

 

"Yes. But for you? No."

 

They were still close enough to camp that Bruce could see Clark smiling in the light from the buildings. He blushed a little and turned back towards the trail. He couldn't stop his eyes from dragging skywards though, after a few hours of studying the stars he was forcibly reminded of just how large the sky was without the cloudy Gotham weather to shield it from view. Even just catching glimpses of stars between the tree branches was enough to make him shiver.

 

Clark's shoulder bumped his. "Need my jacket?"

 

"No, no I'm..." Bruce coughed a little. "I'm fine. It's just..."

 

He waved his hand upwards silently, trying to encompass the vastness of the cosmos and their relative insignificance in a single gesture. Clark hummed in understanding.

 

"Want to see if from closer?"

 

Bruce frowned a little in confusion. "You mean..." He pointed up wordlessly.

 

Clark nodded jerkily, smile quirking his mouth a little uncertainly. "Yeah. Wanna- do you want to go flying with me?"

 

"Yes," Bruce blurted out without a second's thought. He schooled his face into something close to academic curiosity and made his voice as even as he could. "You've been talking a lot but I haven't seen much to back it up. I'm curious to see if the evidence actually stands up to your claims."

 

Clark laughed. It should have been unnerving, but somehow just managed to make the whole thing seem exciting. Like the two of them were just messing around, playing a game. Having fun. He stretched out his hand, still grinning. Bruce hesitated for a second, enough to make the grin turn sly, the eyebrows twitch up in silent challenge. He huffed and grabbed the offered hand.

 

He wasn't expecting the hug. For just a moment, he wondered if it had been a joke, a trap, an excuse to get close to him. They were teenage boys alone in the woods, there were endless books and tv shows about what teenagers could get up to in such circumstances. But then he felt the lift. Clark's arms tightened around him, holding him tightly against a rock-hard chest, and for a split second it was just like he was being picked up by the taller boy, feet dangling off the ground. But the trees in his line of sight were slowly drifting down- no, _they_ were drifting _up_ \- and after a couple seconds there were branches on his back, scraping at his face, and he had to turn more fully into Clark's arms, bury his face in Clark's jacket-

 

"Sorry, almost… There we go!" And then it was like being the cork of a champagne bottle, popping above the tree level and shooting up into the sky. He could feel the drag now, the wind across the trees and in his hair, the light of a million stars suddenly unimpeded by tree shadows or pollution or cloudy weather. His feet dangled below him and there was nothing but Clark's arms stopping him from falling to his death, but he managed to stop staring down at the shrinking trees to turn his face towards the light, and...

 

It was like nothing else mattered. There were stars. There was space, vast and endless and big enough to swallow the planet trillions of times over, never mind something as tiny as Bruce. It sucked the air out of him and left him hollow, mind filled with nothing but cold starlight and silvery moonlight.  It's so bright , he meant to say, but out of his mouth came the words "It's so dark."

 

Clark chuckled quietly in his ear. "Yeah, we're still pretty close to civilization here. Kinda ironic how the light pollution blocks out the stars to make it darker. You should see Kansas, there's twice as many stars out there."

 

"How can you stand it?" Bruce asked frankly, still fixated on the void. Once you saw it as a place and not just a ceiling it was hard to orient yourself as the center of the universe. He didn't think he could bear having that above his head every night, knowing it was there during the day. Give him smog and clouds any day, it kept people's focus grounded on the world where it belonged.

 

"I dunno? Just used to it I guess."

 

"You're from there," Bruce said, because apparently this was just his day for blurting out whatever idiotic thing came to mind. He turned his attention back to Clark, strangely excited by the sudden revelation. "You're from up there, you're-"

 

Their eyes met, Clark's startled and Bruce's a little feverish. "You're an alien," Bruce breathed, and kissed him.

 

There weren't fireworks, or lights dawning, or whatever you were supposed to feel. It was nice, exhilarating even, but after the first couple seconds it was just an awkward press of lips as Bruce clung for balance and Clark hung stiffly in his arms. He pulled back as far as he could, Clark's arms slackening then turning to a vice grip to stop him from falling. Bruce was forcibly reminded of how high up they were, the tallest forest trees at least a hundred feet below them.

 

"I'm sorry," he said as soon as he could make him mouth work properly. "That was… too fast."

 

"Well… yeah, a little," Clark said, laughing awkwardly, still stiff. "I mean, I only just told you. I didn't know that- that was your thing."

 

"What was my thing? Oh-  oh , no it isn't! I just meant, it's, the stars are just so… we're all… and just, the  world  is so..." He was babbling, why was he babbling. Quick, say something intelligent to counteract the stupidity. "It's big."  He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the despairing voices in his head. "It's all very… big. And I guess I just... lost track of myself in it. For a minute. I'm..." Another deep breath to steady himself. "I'm sorry."

 

Clark was very quiet. The breeze was toying with their feet, and Bruce twitched, but Clark's grip never wavered, holding him easily. He finally spoke up, quietly. "Bruce?"

 

"Yes Clark?" Bruce said, forcing himself to meet the other boy's eyes. The warmth there took his breath away all over again.

 

"You're an alien to me too," Clark said, and kissed him.

 

It was different this time. Not fireworks, but shooting stars maybe. The only thing Bruce could feel was the cool night air and the warmth of Clark and the heat of his lips.

 

Clark sounded like he was smiling when he said, "So I guess this is a thing we're doing?"

 

"I guess so," Bruce smiled in spite of himself.  "I mean, if you want to?"

 

"I do. I definitely do."  Clark kissed him again, seemingly just for good measure.


	3. Chapter 3

It was funny how little things changed, even when you wanted them to.  Bruce ate meals with Clark, went to classes and scrimmages with his team, and studied privately when he had the time.  The only difference was, now he and Clark added makeout sessions to their time alone.

It was almost enough to distract him from the escalating tension in his cabin. He hadn't really been friends with his teammates before camp, but he hadn't been on bad terms with them either. But now...

He stared at his bed, eyebrow slowly raising as he tried to figure out what he was seeing. His bed was...upside down. On the ceiling. It was still neatly made, the sheets and pillows somehow remaining in place despite gravity. Bruce suspected glue. The rest of his belongings were likewise adhered to the ceiling, arranged the same way they had been on the floor and his shelves when he had left that morning.

He tried to keep his face blank as he turned to face his roommates. There were a couple muffled snickers, but for the most part the other boys looked just as blank and calm as he did. Tommy was glaring at him outright, face challenging. "Problem, Brucey?"

"Why are my things on the ceiling?"

"Are they?" Tommy said with exaggerated surprise.

Bruce turned away with a silent huff. It was harder than expected not to get openly upset, but he knew that would only feed their egos. Better to play it cool. He went back to staring at the ceiling, this time trying to figure out what to get down and what to leave. He knew if he ignored it their coach would notice and make the others put it back again, or get a member of staff to fix it. The question of how he was going to sleep with his bed like this was...difficult. Sleeping on the floor would be giving up, even if he hadn't been concerned about the bugs and other wildlife that cohabited their cabin. If he manged to crawl up he might be able to sleep on the bottom of the frame, like a hammock. Uncomfortable, and there was a chance that whatever was holding it up would give way on the night, assume it could hold his weight in the first place.

"You could always sleep with your _boyfriend_ ," suggested a mocking voice behind him, to open laughter. Bruce froze for a split second. Then he smiled.

"You know Percy, that is an excellent idea."

He jumped up and grabbed the strap of his duffel bag from where it dangled. He hung in the air for a moment, feeling ridiculous and increasingly nervous, but his weight was enough to make it come loose as predicted. He slung it over his shoulder next to his backpack and waved at them as he walked out, cheerful smile feeling unnatural on his face. The looks of shock on their faces was enough to keep him smiling though. He heard the door creak open again behind him as he marched into the night. Damn. They were watching. Now he'd _have_ to go see Clark.

He tried to organize his thoughts into coherent sentences as he walked up to the Smallville cabin. Lights were on and he could hear talking and laughing from inside, and he almost gave up and turned around. But he couldn't go back now. Taking a deep breath, he raised a hand and knocked firmly. The noise quieted immediately, making him twitch. It was too late to run off though, the door opened and -Billy?- was looking at him curiously. "It's Bruce," he called over his shoulder, opening the door and stepping back so everyone could see.

The boys were gathered on the floor, circled around a board game. Bruce blinked a little, wondering how they had space for that, belatedly noticing the bunk beds. That's right, scholarship kids. Clark was sitting cross-legged in sweats and an overlarge shirt, leaning against a bed with a handful of cards. He stared at Bruce and Bruce stared back, trying to ignore the curious stares of the other four boys.

"What's up?" Clark asked, putting his cards down and rising. "Is something wrong?"

"My room's upside-down."

"Uh... What?"

"My bed. Is on the ceiling. They glued it or nailed it or something. All my things are upside-down on the ceiling."

Josh cracked up first, the others following suit. Clark grinned a little. Bruce tried not to take it personally. It did sound funny when said out loud, especially in this room full of friends. If one of them pulled it it'd be a clever joke. He still couldn't stop himself from pouting just a little. Clark chuckled as he carefully stepped over the board, taking Billy's place at the door. "And you need help getting it down?"

"I don't want to go back there." It came out harder than he expected, and Clark stopped smiling. The laughter behind him died out.

"O-kay? Um..." Clark glanced back at the room, the three bunk beds and five Smallville boys, and Bruce could see him doing the math. He cut in before Clark could say something stupid.

"I'm not staying here. I'm going to go camp in the woods. Do you want to come with me?"

"Oh! Um..."

"Yeah Clark, do you want to _come_ with him?" The boys cracked up laughing again, Clark turning bright red as Bruce flushed.

"Shut it, you." Clark glared over his shoulder at the peanut gallery before turning back to Bruce, face twitching between embarrassment and smiling. "Uh, yeah, I probably should, no offense but you're probably get eaten by wildlife. And not something cool like wolves, more like...possums."

"Or field mice!"

"Oooh, no, jackrabbits!"

"C'mon, it's obvious what he'd get eaten by."

Another round of laughter. Bruce tried very hard not to look confused, he got the general gist of what was being implied and that was enough to fake it.

Clark sighed very loudly, face a solid red. "Okay, enough." He glanced around the cabin then checked his watch. "The counselor will be by in like twenty minutes for the lights out check, if we hide you until then we can sneak out after."

"Lights out check?"

"Um, yeah, when they turn off the lights and check to make sure you go to bed? Won't your coach be doing that?"

Bruce shrugged. "I think our coach has better things to do than put us to bed."

"Seriously?" Pete piped up. "You don't get checked?"

"No." Bruce scowled. "If I'm lucky he'll stop by sometime tomorrow and make them put my stuff back, but I'm pretty sure he either works on the lesson plan or goes out drinking at nights."

" _Lucky_ ," Pete whined. "We never get away anything, our counselor's always checking in."

"That's because he wants to check on his _darling baby booooy~_ " Billy sing-songed, poking Jack.

"Aw shaddup, at least my dad didn't say good riddance when he dropped me off at the bus!"

The laughter covered Bruce coughing uncomfortably, but Clark must have noticed because he turned a little to herd Bruce past them. "Jack's dad volunteered to be our chaperone for the trip, he teaches chemistry at the high school."

"Not doing a good job chaperoning if you two're just gonna sneak out under his nose like that."

"Aw, Jack, not gonna rat us out are you?"

"Nah, I'm not cruel enough to doom Bruce back to the Gotham cabin," Jack said, waving a hand in magnanimous pardon.

That seemed to settle the matter. Clark motioned for Bruce to kneel down, nudging him towards the back of the room.

"Just hide under the bed for a little, and after lights out we can go. Do you have a sleeping bag in either of those?" he asked, waving at the duffel and backpack.

"Sleeping...bag?"

Another round of chuckles. Bruce was starting to get the hang of the "laughing with" and "laughing at" nuances and smiled at them as he slid as far back under the bunk as he could go, swinging his duffel in front of him to (hopefully) obscure his presence. He kept quiet as Clark shuffled around for supplies and the boys resumed their game. Clark stuffed a couple pillowcases full of fabric under the bed with him and sat back at his place at the board just moments before there was a knock at the door.

"Okay kiddos, it's nine o'clock. Lights out!"

"Aw, we just got to a good part! Look I've got Park Avenue!"

"Sorry short stack, got another fun day of learning ahead of us tomorrow. And you know what they say, serious scholars...?"

"Serious scholars sleep soundly," the boys chorused. Bruce felt every thump as they cleared up the game and tromped to their beds. The sink turned off and on as tooth-brushing occurred, the bed above his head creaking alarmingly as somebody flopped down on it.

"Night night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite." The lights flicked off and the door closed, the room slowly fading to silence as the boys settled into bed. It was very quiet for a few minutes.

"Bruce?"

"Ready." His reply was muffled behind all the pillowcases. Clark quietly dragged them out so Bruce could wiggle back out.

"Bring my sleeping bag back clean, please." The boys quietly giggled in the darkness as Clark groaned and leaned over to smack the head of whoever whispered that.

"You you guys headed down to the lake? Could maybe bunk under the canoes."

"And get eaten alive by mosquitoes? No way, they should follow the river up to the hill, lots of stars to look at."

"Easy to get spotted on the hill though, what about the clearing by the firepits?"

"Night guys, thanks for covering," Clark whispered as he grabbed Bruce's hand and pulled him outside, easing the door open slowly to avoid creaking. "Where are we going anyway?" he whispered as they slunk through the shadows of the cabins to the treeline.

"I was thinking the caves."

"The caves? The dangerous unstable covered-in-yellow-tape caves? Which we kinda caved in already? Those caves?"

"No one will spot us there. And if anything happens, I trust you."

"Gee, thanks." Clark's voice was dry, but he gripped Bruce's hand a little tighter and lead them deeper into the woods. They stayed away from the main entrance to the cave systems, it had been basically destroyed and was still covered in yellow tape and orange barricades. Instead they hiked over the hill, skirting low to the ground to avoid being seen from the camp. On the far side there were a series of smaller openings, most of them shallow dead-ends.

Clark poked his head in one while Bruce kept watch. "We don't need like a cave-cave, right? Not reenacting the Goonies here, just someplace to sleep out of the weather."

"Goonies?"

"Kids who find thieves hiding in caves?"

"Like Huckleberry Finn?"

"Yeah, kinda. It's a movie. You're not really up on your pop culture are you?"

"Too busy running corporations and finding new things to gold-plate," Bruce shot back, but his voice was absent as he peered into the cave too. "How well can you see? Are there bats? Or thieves?"

"No bat-thieves," Clark assured him, pulling him into the darkness. They felt their way as deep as they could, maybe about twenty feet in before the walls curved back around. "Here's good, nice and dry. We should be able to get away with a little flashlight if we keep it aimed towards the back."

He dumped out one of the pillowcases, which turned out to hold a rolled-up sleeping bag. Bruce took the other one out more neatly as Clark spread his on the ground. "Um..."

"Just untie those cords, unroll and unfold it, then unzip the top and crawl in." Bruce fumbled with the cords a little, suddenly aware of the very short distance between him and Clark. He got it unrolled but paused before he could open it, looking over at Clark. Clark was watching him, propped up on an elbow as he lay wrapped up in his own sleeping bag. He grinned at Bruce a little, teasing. "Unless you wanted to share?"

"Buy me dinner first," Bruce snorted, pulling open the bag and figuring out how to wiggle down into it. It smelled like Clark, and Bruce stared at the rocky ceiling of the cave trying hard not to imagine Clark tucked in it with him.

"Turning off the light," Clark whispered, switching off the flashlight. They lay together in the darkness, eyes slowly adjusting to the faint starlight coming from the mouth of the cave. Bruce could hear every rustle, every inhale and exhale. They were only a couple feet apart, but it felt both closer and farther than comfortable.

"...it's chilly out," Clark whispered after a while.

"Is it?" Bruce replied, just a quietly. It was summer, even after night the air was warm, although the depths of the cave weren't...oh! "Oh."

Clark snickered and Bruce hissed between his teeth, trying to shuffle closer without wriggling out of the sleeping bag. Clark watched him for an awkward minute before piping up again.

"You've seriously never been in a sleeping bag before?"

"Shut up, I'd like to see you try," Bruce muttered.

"Don't need to!" Clark said cheerfully. "Watch!" He made a little humming noise and very slowly levitated a few inches into the air. Bruce watched in disbelief as he floated across the distance between them and settled down so they were side-by-side.

"...did you really just use your alien flight powers to float two feet without leaving your sleeping bag? Is that really what I just watched you do?"

"Yup," Clark said, sounding smug. "Impressed?"

"...a little." Bruce didn't want to admit it, but Clark was breathing on his face and it was pleasantly distracting.

Clark chuckled. "Turn over."

Bruce only hesitated a little before complying, turning so he lay on his side, his back towards Clark. He felt Clark shuffle up behind him and soon had half a sleeping bag draped over his side, presumably with Clark's arm in it. He let himself be pulled back so they were spooning, feeling Clark's breath ghost across the back of his neck. It was very comfortable, and despite the inherent excitement of being held so close he soon found himself relaxing into the embrace.

The only sounds were crickets and breathing, both fading into white noise as Bruce drifted off. Crunching leaves from outside could have just been the wind, and the voices weren't loud enough to disturb the peace.

Voices.

Bruce's eyes snapped open and he felt Clark stiffen his hold. It was still too quiet to hear what they were saying, but Bruce thought he recognized his coach.

"Clark-"

"Shh."

Were they looking for him? For a moment Bruce was almost glad, at least someone noticed he was gone, but the tone was conversational.

No, Bruce knew that tone. It was common where he came from. Faux-conversational, a bit too much cheeriness and interjections of affectionate nicknames.

"...would be a shame if any kids were seriously hurt."

That was Bruce's coach. A barely-veiled threat if ever Bruce had heard one.

"We put up caution tape. The kids know better than to come out here."

Bruce wasn't sure who that was, but he thought one of the counselors.

"A bunch of teenagers? Mostly boys? _You_ should know better."

"Look, we do bed-checks, and it's guarded during the day. No one's going to-"

"I don't think you're hearing me, friend. A bunch of underage kids? With lawyered-up parents? Sounds like an _accident_ waiting to happen."

The other man was silent for a moment, the leaves crunching as they walked on.

"I'm listening."

"We've seen the USAMO papers."

Another long silence, and this time when they started talking again they were too far for Bruce to hear.

"Okay," Clark whispered, settling down. "They're gone. That was weird."

"Do you know what USAMO is?"

"I'm more concerned about the bed checks. Won't they notice...?"

"They most likely trust the counselors to do that. Yours already did, and that was my coach just now. He never checks on us. And...it sounds like he's not planning on it."

"Huh."

Bruce squirmed awkwardly in his sleeping bag. He'd been so comfortable just a few minutes before, but now there was blackmail and intrigue and suddenly he didn't feel all that safe. Clark loosened his hold enough so that Bruce could sit up and breathe.

"Did you want to go back?"

"I don't have anywhere to go."

"My cabin-"

"Is full of people. I just... want to be alone for a while." Clark was silent for a moment, then sat up and started crawling out of his sleeping bag. Bruce grabbed his arm before he could get far. "No, not you, you don't count."

Clark looked at him, face twisting in amusement. Bruce huffed and tugged him back down. "You know what I mean." They ended up face-to-face this time, foreheads touching, too shadowed to see each others' eyes. Clark's arms wrapped back around him and Bruce tried to relax again. There wasn't anything he could do now, in the dead of night with limited information. Tomorrow he'd try to find out more.

He was so wrapped up in thought he almost missed the way Clark's face was tilting into his. It was impossible to ignore the way their noses brushed as they drew close enough to breath the same air. In the end it was Bruce who leaned forward the last inch the seal their mouths together. The kiss was gentle, more a nice distraction than a precursor to anything. They traded soft touches back and forth as they slowly drifted back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Waking up to sneak back was less of an ordeal than it should have been. Clark was by nature an early riser, and Bruce came wide awake as soon as Clark shook him. They managed to roll up the sleeping bags and dart through the woods in time to stash the sleeping bags right before Jack's dad came to rouse the Smallville team.

"Bruce!" he commented, raising an eyebrow. "You're here awfully early."

"Yup, he wanted to go over my notes for the number theory session before his group took it this afternoon."

"Really now." Clark was very aware of how disheveled they both must look, even if they didn't get caught sneaking out or in it was pretty obvious Bruce was wearing yesterday's clothes. He flushed a little at the look he got; he didn't like lying to anybody and it showed.

"Well," Mr. Mitchell drawled, "It's nice to see young people so devoted to the pursuit of knowledge."

"I'm certainly learning a lot," Bruce said with a completely straight face, and Clark just about died. He could see Pete silently laughing behind the counselor's back and tried to convey a promise of vengeance in a look.

"Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you. I saw the USAMO mentioned in the camp brochure, and I wasn't quite sure what it meant? Do you know what that stands for?"

"Huh, I'm not sure." Mr. Mitchell looked thoughtful. "It does sound familiar. United States of America... Math something? Let me look into that and see if I can find you an answer. Or maybe you could ask your counselor?"

"I would, but he's not really... as approachable as you. He seems more concerned with us getting points and winning the head-to-heads than actually _talking_ about anything." Bruce sold the lie -truth?- with an earnest look. Clark could see Mr. Mitchell softening in response.

"Well that's a shame, it's always a treat to have students who care about learning things than just memorizing facts to dump back onto a test sheet. Tell you what, come back this evening and I'll let you know what I find. Clark, be a gentleman and walk Bruce back to his cabin."

Pete didn't even bother to keep quiet this time, hooting with laughter as Clark pulled his shoes back on and hustled Bruce out the door, face hot enough to melt steel.

"Are my eyes red?" he asked quietly as walked along the trail in the new-dawn light. "It feels like my eyes are red."

"Let me see." Bruce's hand caught his chin and tilted his head down so he was looking at him straight on. Clark's face flushed a little bit more at the implied trust there, though he wasn't sure where the blood was coming from. At this rate every drop of it had to be in his face.

Bruce smirked a little at his expression and patted his cheek. "You're good."

They made it back to the cabin without passing another person, driving home just how early it still was. Bruce silently opened the door to reveal his still-snoring teammates.

"Wow, they really did put it on the ceiling," Clark breathed out, nearly silent. It was an accomplishment of engineering and he was honestly impressed by the detail work. It must have taken them ages.

"Wanna help me get them back?" Bruce's whisper came right next to his ear, making him shiver and grin. He turned to see the shaving cream canister it Bruce's hand and the grin turned evil.

It might have been early but the sun was streaming through the windows, and it wouldn't take much to wake them up. Even the sound of the canister might do it. So instead of risking it and putting the shaving cream in their hands, Bruce carefully snuck a pair of shoes at a time outside, where Clark filled the toes. It wouldn't be noticeable until they stuck their feet in.

"Okay." Bruce dusted his hands off. "Let's get out of here."

An hour later, at breakfast, the Gotham team entered wearing spotless white running shoes, an almost literally glaring difference from their usual black and brown loafers.  No one else seemed to notice, but Clark had to suppress a grin while he finished his corn flakes.

"They'll know it was you."

"I know." Bruce shrugged. "But they're the ones stuck wearing the wrong footwear for a couple days."

Clark furrowed his brow. "But camp's not over for another _month_."

Bruce snorted. "I'd be surprised if Tommy doesn't have new shoes overnighted to him."

"Can't they just wash them out though?"

"Dry them. Those were all leather. I think Preston's were ostrich." Noticing the look on Clark's face, he quickly added, "They'll be fine. No permanent damage."

"That's good. I don't think I could afford to replace four pairs of leather shoes."

"I'd cover damages," Bruce volunteered. "It'd be worth it just for the looks on their faces right now."

Clark covertly glanced across the room, noting the team glowering at their breakfast. "Maybe we should put your room back ourselves. Wouldn't want them to mess anything up."

"More than they already have, anyway," Bruce grumbled. "I still don't know how they got everything to stay in place. If they glued my sheets I'll probably need new ones."

"You can hang onto my sleeping bag in the meantime," Clark offered. Bruce flushed a little and Clark tried not to wonder too hard at what he was thinking. Save it for later when he had time alone. Or hey, when _they_ had time alone. It was crazy that he actually had someone to do stuff with, Smallville was so tiny that even if he was out of the closet to people outside his friends he probably wouldn't have had many guys to try dating. He always vaguely thought he'd have to wait until he grew up and left town for something like this. Although, in a way he kinda had.

"Something wrong?" Clark glanced up at Bruce, who clarified. "You're staring at your cereal."

"Are we boyfriends?" Clark blurted out. Bruce started a little in his seat. "I- I mean, we've been hanging out and talking about all this private stuff, and kissing, and..." He cleared his throat. It was too late to try for suave now, even if he had known how. "Are we dating?"

Bruce stared at him in silence. If Clark didn't know him as well as he did he might think it was awkward, but by now he understood how Bruce processed things. It was a comforting thought.

"I suppose we're dating," Bruce finally said, going back to his eggs, faint pinkness of his cheeks belying the neutral tone of voice. "I'd need to take you home to meet my butler before I'd call us boyfriends though."

Clark bit his tongue very very hard to stop the instinctive comment about traditionally meeting parents from slipping out. He knew Bruce didn't- _couldn't_ do things the normal way. Instead he picked up his bowl to drink the rest of the milk. "Yeah, it'd be cool if you could meet my folks too. Maybe at the end of the summer when they pick us up?"

Bruce hummed and let the question pass unanswered. Three weeks was pretty soon to be asking that kind of thing, Clark thought in retrospect. Still, Bruce said yes! They could work out the details later.

Alone.

When he asked Bruce how he felt about spending the night in Clark's sleeping bag.

 

* * *

 

For the rest of the day Bruce thought there might be no retaliation for his actions. They'd pulled a prank, he'd pulled a prank, they were even. Classes and study sessions were completely normal. Preston even asked him for help on a trig problem.

But as soon as they broke for dinner, something seemed off. Where the rest of his team usually retreated to their cabin as a group, they now split up and headed in different directions. Had they neglected to tell him something out of spite?

Bruce's skin prickled as he walked toward the Smallville cabin. It was a familiar sensation, but he hadn't been experiencing it as much here as he did back in Gotham. He was being watched.

"Hey," Clark popped out the door before Bruce was even close enough to knock. "How'd it go?"

"Okay, I think." Bruce wasn't able to stop himself from glancing around.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. Come on, let's go for a walk before we eat."

Clark followed him without questioning. The prickling continued all the way to the trailhead, even though he'd known Clark long enough now that he shouldn't be the cause.

"Did somebody say something?" Clark asked.

"Huh?"

"You're edgy."

"I know," Bruce admitted. "I just feel like... I don't know." He lowered his voice, despite no concrete reason for caution. "I feel like I'm being watched."

Clark didn't challenge him on it, just smiled and offered his hand. "Let's go somewhere we won't be."

"Hey, Brucey!" a voice called. Bruce felt his entire body flinch.

"Percy," he said coolly. Percival hated being called Percy almost as much as Bruce hated Brucey, and they both knew it.

The other boy's smile didn't falter. "You're coming to dinner with the rest of us, right? We've got to go over the trig section."

"Again?" Bruce hesitated. This may have been a trick, but it was their weakest subject. "I... okay. Uh, Clark?"

"It's fine." He waved him off. "I'll see you later."

They did go over the trigonometry questions of the day... for about ten minutes. Then the conversation devolved to Percival's hopes for a car for his upcoming birthday, Tommy's trip to the Bahamas earlier in the summer, and the usual complaining about the food.

But after he finished, when Bruce tried to get up, immediately there were more questions and formulae to go over. They worked in the dining hall until almost everyone else had left, and it was half dark when they left.

"Don't forget," Tommy said, the picture of innocence, "we have to get up early for that combinatorics session."

"Right..." Bruce said. "Well, I-"

"So you shouldn't go running off again."

Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets, to hide how tightly he'd clenched them into fists. "Right."

He didn't see Clark again until the next day, and even then at first it was only from a distance. At least he got a decent night's sleep; his bed was back to obeying gravity and his sheets had been replaced. But there was still a nagging thought that all this attention was nefarious somehow.

And it didn't stop. Today, too, every time Bruce tried to take a break, _someone_ was calling him back. Augustus didn't understand linear algebra. They had an extra lesson on inequalities. Bruce was needed for an impromptu scrimmage.

Even when they mostly got along, Bruce hadn't been this popular. There was no doubt now that they were keeping him busy for a reason. But was it just to torment him, or keep him from fraternizing with someone they didn't approve of?

He didn't have any answers by the time lights out was called that evening. Their coach made a point of telling them he'd be away from his cabin and not to bother him unless they were bleeding to death. Bruce mentally put it in the "suspicious activity" list, wondering if deliberate neglect could actually be blamed on the camp or if they'd try to put it back on the coach if one of them did sneak out and get hurt. The other boys had different things on their minds, if the muffled snickering following his departure were anything to go off of.

"What are you laughing at," he finally muttered, not really expecting an answer.

"Somebody's getting _laid_ tonight," Preston sniggered from his bed.

Bruce scowled. "You don't know that. He ditches us every night."

"Aw, Brucey, you'll understand when you're older."

"I'm old enough now!"

Tommy _tsk_ ed quietly. "Spoken like the baby of the family. Don't worry Bruce, we'll defend your innocence."

" _Defend my innocence_?!" Bruce cringed as the words came out a high-pitched shriek.

"Yes," Tommy droned, not a trace of laughter in his voice. "Like a rare and beautiful flower, too easily crushed under the farmer's plow, you must be protected from harm by those who can appreciate the finer things in life."

The cabin erupted again into snickers. Bruce could feel his face twisting up into a snarl, catching the joke a second too late. He was going to have to resign himself to being surrounded by deviants, but he didn't have to like it. He made a mental note to not devolve into a slimy morass of tasteless innuendo when his hormones fully kicked in. In the meantime he crawled out of bed and stomped over to Tommy's bunk, dragging his pillow with him.

Tommy grinned up at him in the darkness, barely visible with the faint moonlight. The snickers petered out until Bruce could hear the crickets outside. He was sorely tempted just to slam his pillow into Tommy's face until the smile came off it, but he restrained himself for the time being. "What right do you have to interfere with my life?"

"Look, Bruce." Tommy sat up, face schooled into something approaching sincerity. "We're concerned about you. You've been spending all your time running around in the woods, not focusing on the team, skipping the bonding exercises we're supposed to complete, and hanging around with a frankly questionable young man."

Bruce blinked, opening his mouth to ask what exactly was so questionable about a boyscout like Clark.

Tommy stopped him short, holding up a hand to forestall questions. "Now normally it's the parent's job to decide the appropriateness of their children's romantic partners, but since yours aren't in a position to chaperone-"

 

* * *

 

"Go fish."

"Oh come on, I _know_ you have-"

_Bang Bang Bang_

The Smallville team blinked at the door.

_BANG BANG BANG_

"It's your boyfriend," Pete said as Clark scrambled to his feet. "Nobody else can be that angry at an inanimate object."

Clark barely had the door open when Bruce hurdled inside, slamming it behind himself and dodging around the boys to the single bathroom in the back of the cabin. Clark blinked at the rest of the group, who were shooting wide-eyed looks at each other and him.

"Holy cow, is that _blood_?" Josh said, pointing at Clark. Everyone blinked down at Clark's sleep pants. A smear of blood was on the leg.

Clark was moving before he even realized it, having to consciously force himself to slow down halfway across the room. He banged into the bathroom to find Bruce scrubbing more blood out of his pillowcase. The pillow and a heavy-looking flashlight sat on the counter next to the sink, waiting to be cleaned.

"Sorry," Bruce said without looking up. "I'll buy you new pajamas."

Clark grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him so Clark could check him over. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," Bruce said calmly. Clark peered at his face, trying to figure out how to tell if someone had gone into shock. Something about pupil sizes? Bruce did seem to have trouble concentrating, looking away from him and trying to shrug off his hands to continue his cleanup.

"Bruce, look at me. What happened?"

Bruce glared at him from the corner of his eye before huffing and slumping, turning to let Clark see the bruise swelling on his face. "Tommy was talking about my parents, and you, and I went off on him."

"What did he say? Wait." Clark shook his head. "That doesn't matter. How bad did you hurt him? Are you going to be in trouble?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Pete spoke up from his bunk. "Are we going to be in trouble?" When Clark glared at him, he added, "We're harboring a fugitive!"

"I don't think Tommy will say anything," Bruce said quietly. "He hasn't before."

"That's kind of a lot of blood."

"Flashlight got him right in the nose." Bruce nearly looked like he wanted to smile. "Is it okay if I stay here? I'll find somewhere else if not."

The Smallville boys shared a look. Part uneasy, part incredulous, part contemplative. Jack broke the silence first. "If dad catches him we didn't know he was here. And he's not sharing my bed."

"Nose goes!" Billy blurted, and suddenly everyone but Clark's finger was on their nose.

"Oh come on, guys, be serious!" he said, more flustered than he should be under the circumstances. He tried to keep hold of the important thing. "If there's been an injury it's gonna be reported-"

"I sincerely doubt that." At Clark's glare Bruce snorted and finished squeezing water out of the corner of his pillow. "Oh come on. This is pretty basic stuff. He crossed me, he suffers a little for it, after this we're square. If he thinks my reaction was disproportionate he'll find a way to get back at me personally. He's not going to _snitch_." The word carried a level of disdain and venom normally reserved for felonies.

"You sound like a mafia boss," Josh idly commented, sneaking a not-very-subtle look at Clark, eyebrows raised.

"He's not a mafia boss," Clark sighed, giving up on trying to contain the situation. He let Bruce scrub the blood out of his sleep pants before leading Bruce back to his bunk, watching him perch awkwardly on the edge as he picked up his cards again and tried vainly to remember what they were doing before this.

There was a muddle as the team wordlessly agreed to restart the game, Pete shuffling and dealing in silence. Bruce made no effort to join, watching with vague curiosity as Clark rearranged his hand. "What are you playing?"

The rest of the evening passed quickly with the boys explaining the rules of various card games and making up more than a few new ones. Everyone kept one eye on the clock, Clark nudging Bruce as curfew approached.

"Are you sure your coach won't check on you guys?" Clark asked as Bruce slid under his bed.

"He did lights out half an hour ago. He said not to bother him unless we were on fire or bleeding. And I already said Tommy won't tell on me," he added as Clark opened his mouth.

"Fine, if you're sure," Clark said, sliding his suitcase and sleeping bag around so Bruce wasn't visible from the door. This was turning into a habit. The boys settled in and got comfortable as Jack's dad popped in to flick the lights off and wish them a good night's sleep. The man's cheerful "I'm right down the trail if you need anything!" was a sharp contrast to the picture Bruce painted of his own coach. Clark found his thoughts turning again to the overheard conversation, the acronym they still didn't have an answer for, the implied threats, their time alone in the cave...

"Bruce? Are you gonna stay down there all night?" he whispered as he realized how much time had passed.

"Yeah, I think so. It's comfortable. Less chance of getting caught."

"Are you sure? Seems kind if squished..."

"It wouldn't be less crowded in your bed," Bruce shot back to muffled snickers from the rest of the cabin. "And it's easier to relax if I don't have to worry about someone seeing me."

"Okay," Clark said uncertainly. "If you're really sure." He listened to the quiet rustles as everyone settled in for the night. He tried not to move too much in case it disturbed Bruce. He tried not to think too much about how he was lying in his boxers while Bruce was less than two feet away from him, _under_ him. It was strangely comforting to hear Bruce's faint whuffing snores join the usual chorus as everyone else slowly dropped off the sleep, and eventually Clark found himself slipping into the darkness to join them.

 

* * *

 

The next morning the only sign of last night's altercation were yellowing bruises on Bruce and Tommy's faces. Breakfast was quiet, especially after Percy made a crack about two people getting laid last night, and Tommy and Edwin made choking noises.

Even though Bruce was sure the constant demands for his attention had been a punishment, now that he was due for more they were letting up. He escaped at lunch and during their free period, and the last class of the evening was almost pleasant.

He stayed with the Smallville team until long after dinner, playing cards and sudoku. The less time he had to spend isolated with his own team, the better. But eventually he had to head for the cabin, if only for lights-out.

The door was cracked open against the summer heat, so it wasn't odd that Bruce could hear talking as he approached. He didn't think anything of it until he caught his own name.

"I just don't get it." That sounded like Edwin. "A hick like that?"

"It doesn't matter why," Tommy said. He still sounded a little stuffed up. "Bruce needs to understand that he has a place, and it's here."

"You didn't want him around a few weeks ago," Percy said languidly.

"Part of his place is knowing we don't want him around!"

Somebody snorted.

"You know what I mean," Tommy huffed. "We have to break them up, or, barring that, _break_ that Clark kid."

"They're the competition," Preston pointed out. "Maybe if we challenge them, it'll cause a rift?"

"Bruce is probably only dating that guy because he's available," Edwin said. There was an odd edge to his voice. "If somebody more, like, suitable came along, he'd drop him."

There was a long pause.

"What are you suggesting?" Tommy asked.

"I- I don't know."

"Moving on," Tommy sighed. "We're all at least in agreement, right?"

There was an affirmative chorus.

Bruce waited another minute or two until he was sure the conversation had moved on before he went inside. Confirmation of his paranoia didn't change anything, but he thought he'd gotten some useful information.

 

* * *

 

"They're plotting against us."

"Right," Clark said mildly. He stared at Bruce for a moment. "Wait, is that news?"

"Yes! I don't know. Kind of. I always assume everyone who doesn't like me is plotting against me, but now I know for sure!"

Clark's brow furrowed over his glasses. "Do you think it has to do with what your coach was saying before?"

"No, definitely not."

"So there are two probably-sinister plots going on here?"

"I guess. Is that... a lot?"

"I'm not even surprised by it any more, so I guess not." Clark leaned forward on the table. They were settled into a corner of the dining hall, the one furthest from the windows, and Bruce had tucked himself where he could see all the entrances. "So, what do you want to do?"

"I'm not sure yet. They don't seem very organized. I think I can head them off now that I know it's a concentrated effort." He pursed his lips. "And there may be a... weak link."

"What do you mean?"

"Someone I can break."

"Breaking people?" Clark twisted his mouth. "Are you sure you want to sink to their level?"

"Not like that," Bruce corrected. "Like cracking a safe. Look, it's not important."

"What's important?"

"One;" he held up a finger dramatically. "They want to break you and me up."

"They do?" It had seemed more like they were annoying Bruce for the sake of annoying him, but Clark hadn't been there to hear what Bruce did. "That's kind of petty. Or, is it... because we're both guys?"

"I think it's just because I'm happy when they don't want me to be. Which is important thing number two." Bruce smiled. It was still so rare. Clark smiled back, but it didn't feel like enough, so he reached across the table and took his hand.

"I'm happy too."

"Okay," Bruce blushed, but didn't pull his hand away. "Um. So. If I can't spend too much time with you, or if any of those guys say anything..."

"I wouldn't believe them anyway."

"Good." Bruce was back to businesslike. "I'm going to work on the weak link. Has Jack's dad told you if he found anything?"

"Not yet, but I can check in with him."

"Okay. And we'll meet tomorrow, around three?"

"Sounds good." Clark squeezed his hand a last time and let go. "Keep your chin up."

"I always do."

 

* * *

 

"Edwin?" Bruce tried to keep his expression politer than he felt. "Could you help me with this, I can't quite find the variable."

Tommy was doing flashcards with Preston across the room or he never would have gotten away with it, Bruce was smarter than Edwin by miles and they both knew it. Thankfully Edwin either wasn't that observant or was quick to forget the animosity hanging over their team, because he followed Bruce to his workspace in the corner without a fuss.

Bruce chewed his lip a little as Edwin painstakingly explained a concept he'd mastered at least a year ago. He hadn't really put much thought into how exactly he'd try to push Edwin, but as long as the end result was turning him against the rest of the team and breaking the power base, the manner didn't really matter. But if he got it wrong he could wind up turning Edwin into even more of an enemy than he was now. He wished humans could be a little more predictable, or that he could figure out how to push their buttons more easily.

He realized Edwin had stopped talking and was staring at him. He forced his mind back to the topic onhand and lowered his eyes back to the page, leaning over to see what Edwin was pointing to. "Ah, sorry...tell me one more time? It keeps going over my head."

"Sure thing Bruce," Edwin said with a forced chuckle, making Bruce internally wince. He was alienating him already. Bruce made an effort to focus this time, stormy blue eyes riveted on Edwin as they went over the problems again.

 

* * *

 

Clark and the rest of the Smallville guys got along more or less with most of the other campers. Even the other big city kids who were impressed or intimidated by the Gotham team (or both) let them be. It wasn't unusual to talk across lines after a lesson, or during study time, so Clark didn't think it was odd when a boy from LA approached him.

"Hey, uh..." he ran a hand through his hair. "You doing okay?"

Clark blinked. Did he look sick? That was pretty unlikely, but maybe the lighting? "Yes. You?"

"Yeah, yeah, uh." The boy laughed uncomfortably. "See ya."

And then he was gone.

"That was weird." He glanced back at Pete. "Right?" Pete shrugged.

It happened again on the way to their cabin that evening. This time it was a boy Clark didn't even know by sight, but he addressed Clark by name and said, "If you need to talk, I'm a good listener."

"Thank you?"

Clearly that wasn't the response he expected, so he just smiled awkwardly and brushed past them. This time Pete poked him in the shoulder.

"What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _everyone_?" Clark asked. "Do I look okay?"

"You always look perfect. It's insane."

"Then why do people keep worrying about me?"

Pete opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, "Give me like, ten, fifteen minutes."

"Huh?"

"Just wait at the cabin."

" _Huh_?"

He was already running off down the path.

With few options, Clark did as he was told and kept going. He was ready for bed and timing sudoku games with Billy when Pete made it back.

"Got it," he brandished what looked like a battered spiral notebook. Thick, college-ruled, with colored post-it notes sticking out between the pages. It took a moment before Clark recognized it, not having needed to consult it more than once or twice.

"The communal study book?"

"Everybody's been writing notes in here. Not about math, about, you know, things to avoid in conversation. Who's taken and not to be flirted with. Which teachers are actually helpful and which can be bribed for cigarettes."

"Gossip, you mean."

"Yes." Pete flipped to near the back of the book. "Here it is. Wayne private study-buddies with Dinwiddie... that has got to be spelled wrong. Dinwiddie?"

"Edwin?" Clark frowned. "Wait, they're saying that Bruce is privately studying with Edwin?"

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I know! Bruce doesn't get along with any of his teammates, why would they think-"

"No, this guy's name is Edwin Dinwiddie?"

Clark rubbed his forehead. "Are people trying to comfort me because they think my boyfriend is cheating on me?"

"Looks that way, dude."

"Even if he was, which he isn't, it's nobody else's business."

Pete patted his shoulder. "Look, I'm with you, but you've got to face it; you're prime bachelor beef."

"Ugh."

"Agreed! Even if I was a _little_ gay, I've known you forever, so, no. But this is a big camp, and mostly guys. There's going to be a pretty good handful of them that are gay."

"This is so stupid."

Billy spoke up from his game. "I'll get you a stick to beat them off with."

"Not funny." Clark stood up. "I'm going to talk to him."

Pete took a step between him and the door. "You said he's definitely not cheating on you, right? So don't stir the pot."

"I know he's not! I- I think I know what he's doing. But if people are getting ideas, I should... I don't know. I should defend his reputation, right?"

"Do you _really_ think Bruce cares what anyone else thinks of him?"

Clark sighed. "No."

"So let it lie. You guys know you're together and that's what matters. If other people want to gossip that's their business."

"I guess so," Clak said half-heartedly, flopping back down on his bunk. Billy pushed the sudoku sheet at him with a grin.

"I can't believe you haven't heard of the notebook yet, it's like a tabloid and diary mixed into one. Hey Pete, read the bit about the swimming fiasco, that was funny."

Pete flipped back towards the start of the book and sorted through sticky notes, adopting a dramatic voice as he read. "Los Angeles team no angels! Skinny-dipping dare turned raunchy when Louisiana rivals showed up with cameras..."

The team spent the evening passing the book around, taking turns reading aloud in increasingly ridiculous voices and laughing over their fellow camper's antics. Clark blushed and laughed when rumors about him and Bruce started cropping up, embarrassment over people noticing overcome by amusement at the wildly made-up stories about their purported love life. It took the edge off his worrying about Bruce's hypothetical new beau. After all, if they were this wrong about two people why were actually dating, they couldn't be accurate about two people who couldn't stand each other, right?

 

* * *

 

"Are you jealous?"

At the best of times, Bruce had a very intense gaze. Right now, Clark wouldn't be surprised if Bruce could melt stone too.

"No," he said. "Not really. I trust you."

Bruce's face softened into what passed for a smile. "Would you be if I hadn't told you, though?"

"You're just studying with him. I'd never have jumped to that conclusion if other people hadn't gotten there first."

Bruce nodded thoughtfully. "I'm not learning much, but Edwin's hanging on my every word." With complete seriousness, he added, "I might be very good at flirting."

It took every ounce of Clark's considerable muscle control not to laugh. "Oh?"

"I thought I'd have to try to get him on my side. All I did was pretend I cared about anything he said."

"It uh... really depends on the situation. And the people involved. I think."

"You think?"

"I'm no expert." He nodded in Bruce's direction. "It helps to look like you, though."

Bruce looked thoughtful, but his ears slowly went red. "You mean... I'm, um, good-looking?"

"Definitely."

"Oh." The blush spread across his cheeks.

Clark took advantage of the moment to lean in and kiss him. It was afternoon, but this far in the woods they were pretty secluded. Bruce seemed eager to kiss back, but Clark had to pull away far too soon.

"I have to head back. We're doing a timed game against LA."

"Okay," Bruce's face did what he was sure to deny was a pout. "You go on ahead." He was still being cautious, but it was understandable.

He gathered up his notebook and pencil and set off down the path to camp. Clark's hearing was good enough that he knew he was coming up on a few people long before he saw them. And he was familiar enough with the Gotham team by now that he identified them as soon as he heard one of them muttering.

"I think they're coming."

Clark sighed to himself and twirled his pencil between his fingers. Hopefully they were waiting for Bruce, not him, so he could get to the game on time. He didn't see them as he drew nearer to where their hearts were beating, so he had to try to look surprised when someone behind him jerked him off the path by his collar and shoved him down a hill. Guess he'd be late.

He tried to cover his face as he fell, protect his glasses. He was glad he'd remembered to put them back on after he and Bruce stopped making out. Honestly, it was so easy to be around him, to have him _know_ , Clark could almost forget to pretend the rest of the time. Like now. Three boys were coming down the slope after him, another perched up on the ledge, but he couldn't help straightening to his full height, already taller than two of them, eye-to-eye with Tommy. Why should he cower from bullies like these?

"So we meet again, stretch."

Clark blinked. With an opening like that he would have expected Tommy to be stroking a white cat dressed in a black turtleneck, not skulking in the woods in what looked like high-end lumberjack clothes.

"It's been a while," he said evenly, trying not to sneer back. The other two, Preston and Percy, were flanking him. Nobody looked like they were about to throw a punch though, so he kept his eyes on Tommy. Bruce said he was the more dangerous one anyway, even if he never explained.

"Having a good time at camp? Getting along with Brucey?"

"Sure."

"You know, you're lucky."

"I know."

"Not a lot of guys get to be the richest teenager in Gotham's summer fling." Tommy smiled into Clark's glare. "He's younger than the rest of us, you know. Doesn't have _experience_. You're nice, you're safe, you listen to him."

Clark raised his chin. "Are you trying to say something?"

"You're filling a need, Smallville. And as soon as you're not doing it for him, he'll drop you."

"You sound pretty sure of that for someone who doesn't even like Bruce."

"You don't have to like someone to know them." Tommy laughed suddenly. "Think about it. _None_ of us like him much. And why _is_ that?"

Clark felt his fists tightening involuntarily. "I don't care. I like him."

"You don't know him. And he doesn't know you, or even want to. You're just-"

The snap of the pencil was unusually loud. Clark forced his hand open and let the pieces fall to the ground.

Tommy was smiling. He'd smiled that first time, too, when they wanted to beat Clark up just to show him who was superior.

"Touched a nerve there."

"You don't know what you're..." Clark's shoulders fell. His head drooped. He closed his eyes against the rising heat and took a slow breath. They were bullies. They didn't matter. But if he kept drawing attention like this, he'd get a reputation as more than just half of the token gay couple.

He was supposed to be a nerd. A tall nerd with broad shoulders and a chin like a shovel, but a nerd nonetheless. Normally, when people ganged up on you, you were supposed to be scared, right?

"You don't know anything," Clark mumbled.

Tommy patted his shoulder. Clark didn't dare look up, or he'd be tempted to smash that smug smile into pieces. "I'm just trying to look out for you, Smallville. Both of you. You seem like a nice guy! But in Gotham... people aren't so nice. Nice people tend to get eaten." Tommy smiled a shark's grin, hand slowly rubbing Clark's shoulder. He couldn't tell if it was supposed to hurt or not, but he figured the awkwardness made him look uncomfortable enough to pass if it was. Tommy pat his shoulder again before letting go.

"Now I know you don't believe me, because we've had a few differences of opinion over the social hierarchy. But I'm really on your side here. I know you probably like him; first love, summer fling, the whole works. But believe me, as soon as he gets bored the charm will vanish and you'll see what he's really like."

"And you already do?" Clark huffed a short breath, mentally kicking himself. He wouldn't call himself the most confident guy in the world, but if he was still backtalking he'd have to tone it down even more. He kept his eyes fastened on the ground, not looking up even when Tommy leaned in again.

"I know him well enough to know exactly how much of a living hell he'll make your life if he doesn't get his way in everything. And yeah, catering to the whims of a billionaire playboy makes for a good trashy romance, but when you have to live it? It's not so fun. He'll keep you jumping through hoops then turn his back on you the second you ask for anything in return. Or he'll give you the world on a platter and yank it out from under you when he decides it's not worth the effort."

Tommy took a step back, giving Clark some breathing room and raising his voice above the harsh whisper it had been, shrugging theatrically when Clark looked up. "And I won't pretend to care about your broken heart when this fling ends, but we have to live with Bruce for the rest of the summer, and dealing with his drama queen fit will be small potatoes compared to the soap opera he'll throw when he drags you through the high school romance version of divorce court. Trust me, it'll be better all around if you end things now."

His eyes suddenly sharpened to a glare, hard and bright enough to make Clark lean back nervously. Good, meek and scared, keep it up. "And safer all around, too." Tommy patted his shoulder one last time, fingers digging in in a way that was definitely meant to hurt. Clark winced. "Think things through, Smallville. About what you want, and about what's going to _happen_ if you continue this way."

"I... Okay."

The boys parted, leaving a space for Clark to walk between them.  He kept his head down, both to look chastened and to watch for any feet trying to trip him.  He couldn't stop his hands from shaking, but that would still look submissive from the outside.

He was late to the game, but no one said anything. It must have showed on his face after all.

 

* * *

 

Bruce wound up not following Clark along the same path, crawling across some shrubs -were they just called bushes in the wild?- to get to a trail that let out in a different part of the camp instead. There were far too many people content to lounge around in the common areas all day, even if he and Clark staggered their entrances and exits it might still be noticed that they came from the same place. Safer to remove the possibility of being spotted by just going a different way.

It did mean he was late to the game, only catching the tail end of Smallville's victory, but that was alright too. It made him look more of a casual observer than an attentive boyfriend. He couldn't resist following Clark and the team back towards their cabin though. He jogged until he was trailing a few steps behind Clark, who was looking surprisingly glum for someone who had just pulled off a victory. He had a leaf in his hair.

"Congratulations," he called when it was clear Clark wasn't going to turn around to greet him. He frowned when Clark grunted, not even pausing to look at him. "You have a leaf in your hair."

"Your teammates pushed me down a hill."

"Oh, fantastic, they're following us around now," Bruce grumbled, reaching to pick the leaf out of Clark's hair. He startled when Clark swung around to catch his wrist.

"Don't," Clark said, looking upset. "Just- I think we need a little more space. Keep doing what you're doing with Dinwiddie. We'll talk later, after I get some things sorted out. I... we both need to be more careful." He dropped Bruce's hand and turned back to where his team was waiting, expressions ranging from curiosity to exasperation.

Bruce flushed a little and hurried away. "Sorry for spoiling the party," he mumbled under his breath, hoping spitefully that Clark could still hear him.

He tried to ignore the few people he could see lingering around, but given how things must have looked to outsiders they'd probably assume they just witnessed a breakup. Good, he'd only encourage that by looking upset and ditching afternoon review. He'd just go...hang around the docks or something. Maybe walk around the lake staring soulfully into the distance, or whatever people did when they got dumped. It'd help the rumors and make it easier for him to manipulate Edwin. Who was apparently going around attacking people now. He clenched his fists and broke into a run.

 

* * *

 

Being away from home had thrown Bruce's normal exercise routine into chaos. He was out of practice. That was why he was panting for breath after a mere ten laps around the lake. Granted, it was a bigger lake than the one on the Wayne's property, but it was the principle of the thing. He was letting all this sunshine and fresh air and time with friendly people make him go soft.

When he felt like his legs were going to give out he flopped down on the grass by the trail, taking off his sweaty shirt and stretching forward with a groan, trying to ease his muscles into behaving again. He definitely needed to get back to a routine if a month of letting it slide had cost him this much stamina. Of course he'd probably have a lot more free time if Clark wasn't going to have him around. Bruce held his stretch for a few more long seconds, then flopped backwards and flipped over with a grunt, straightening out like a board and pushing up. His legs had given up on him, let's see how his arms held up.

 

* * *

 

It was after dark when Bruce finally made it back to the cabins. His limbs were weak to the point of wobbling as he walked, but that was good. It made him feel like he'd accomplished something.

People were wandering around, chatting, throwing various sports equipment. Bruce knew he was getting looks. Even though it was planned, he still jerked a little when someone called out to him.

He was tired enough that it took a second to recognize Edwin's voice. Bruce offered a weak smile.

"Hey... are you okay?"

"Sure," he sighed. "What is it?"

"What? Nothing. I'm just, you know, worried about you."

"You don't need to be. I'm fine." Bruce gave another smile, intentionally tightening his jaw to make it look pained. The effect on Edwin was instant.

He put his hand on Bruce's shoulder, only wincing a little on finding it soaked with sweat. "Listen, if that Smallville idiot can't see how great you are, that's his problem."

It was very hard not to laugh. Even though he was upset with Clark right now, Edwin still had no idea.

"I know," he said. "But... thanks."

"And... Look, I know the other guys, they... they don't get you. You're smarter than they are, and they resent that."

Bruce's eyebrows raised. He hadn't expected that level of insight from Edwin. "You're pretty smart yourself."

"You're pretty too!" Edwin blurted, and his face froze in an expression of utter horror.

Bruce didn't have to try to smile this time. "Thank you."

"I- I... Oh god. Uh. I just meant, forget them. Right? Forget everybody who doesn't understand you."

"That's good advice." Bruce laid his hand on top of Edwin's on his shoulder. Edwin appeared to be blushing. "You're a good friend."

"Y- yeah. I mean. Thanks." He pulled his hand away. "I'm gonna, uh... You should clean up before bed."

"Good idea. See you later."

Bruce mentally checked off a box as he headed for the showers. Edwin would be on his side when the time came, so long as Bruce could keep the current balance.

 

* * *

 

Clark skipped dinner at the canteen that night.

"What's gotten into you? I thought we had all this stuff with Bruce sorted out. You said-"

"I know what I said, okay. Nothing's really changed. I just...need some time to think."

"Huh. Okay. But I'm bringing you back some food."

Clark smiled wearily. "Thanks Pete, you're a pal."

Pete laughed and flicked the leaf out of his hair. "Hey, if we have to suffer through Wednesday night meatloaf, so do you!"

"Thanks Pete, you're a _real_ pal!"

Pete jogged off to catch up with the rest of the team, laughing as he went. Clark chuckled a little, then let the smile fade as he sank back onto his bed.

He liked Bruce. He wanted to be with him. And he was willing to put up with a little bullying to stay that way. He also knew Bruce still wanted to be with him. Tommy and Edwin and all of them were skeevy little rats trying to lie and manipulate and threaten their way to the top. He couldn't trust anything they said.

But... he couldn't go against them either.

Half his mind rebelled, and he got up and paced the room while he tried to organize his thoughts. Yes, they were bullies, and yes they should be stopped, and no he shouldn't be cowed by them or their theatrics. He thought... he _hoped_ , that if he was just a regular guy, he'd feel the same way. That he'd stand up to them even if it meant getting beat up or sabotaged.

But he wasn't a regular guy, and it was time he stopped forgetting that. The other half of his mind came roaring into the fight with cold hard logic. He could do things, amazing things, otherwordly things. Bruce was a great guy, but Clark didn't even trust his closest friend with that information. The fact that he had figured it out so easily, even with his level of intelligence, was scary. Clark was getting careless, and the more time he spent with Bruce the worse it was. If someone like Tommy found out, someone like their coach, someone with connections or even just a phone number to someone in the government...

Clark could get taken away. Or he'd escape, and have to live on the lam. Never see his parents or friends again without risking their safety, even if they escaped scrutiny when people first came for Clark. He couldn't let that happen. Even if it meant letting the bullies win.

He sagged until he fell over backwards onto his bed. It really wasn't worth it. The uncertainty on their faces when they realized their victim wasn't backing down, the sense of righteousness he got from throwing a few punches, it wasn't worth his life. It wasn't worth his family's. He couldn't be like this anymore.

So what would he be like?

He stared blankly at the bunk above him, trying to recall his thought process from before camp, about reinventing himself into someone who blended into the background. It chafed now more than it ever had before, knowing he was putting on an act for the satisfaction of jerks like Tommy and Edwin instead of just playing wallflower for strangers. But it was necessary, so Clark took a deep breath and tried to start over.

Clark Kent was big and strong, there was no denying that, especially working on a farm like he did. But that didn't mean he had to stand out or show off. Slouch a little, hunch over, make himself smaller. Dial down the confidence and self-assurance. Maybe work in some clumsiness? It wouldn't work for his teammates who knew he'd played football, but down the road he could be that kind of guy. Not at home in his big body, afraid to break something or hurt people. A polite kind of guy who didn't make waves or want to inconvenience anybody. Shy. Wallflower. Quiet, mild, maybe even meek. He'd have to work that in slowly, he'd been acting pretty confident the last few weeks. Maybe blame it on their winning streak, or say Bruce had been rubbing off on him?

Clark winced a little at the thought. It was bad enough he'd have to bend to the Gotham team's expectations, he didn't want to prove them right about him leeching off of Bruce, even just for his confidence levels. He couldn't play shy with them, they wouldn't buy it. So, cowed it was. He punched the air a couple times in vengeance, but it was half-hearted. Bullies win, farm boy runs scared.

The Kents live to see another day.

It'd be worth it.

 

* * *

 

It was two hours after lights out when Bruce snuck out of the cabin, the sound of snores covering his exit.

He still heard Tommy whisper "Don't bother, Brucey," in his wake.

He grit his teeth a little as he slipped from tree to cabin to bush, slinking in shadows on his way to the Smallville cabin. Of course Tommy was the ringleader of whatever they were scheming now. Edwin might be the one fixated on his romantic attentions but he also couldn't coordinate his way out of a garden hedge maze. And if he was already a step ahead of Bruce on this he'd probably also need to come back as quickly as possible, probably looking brokenhearted if this was going where he thought it was.

He wondered if he could fake a decent cry into his pillow.

 He hadn't bothered to change out of his pajamas, just slipping his loafers on to make crossing the dirt paths easier. The silk rustled a little louder than anticipated but the navy helped blend into the darkness. He wasn't spotted by the time he reached the cabin, and if he had Tommy pegged right then as long as he made it back within ten minutes he wouldn't be reported or get caught sneaking out.

He hesitated at the door, opting instead to go in the window. No point waking up the whole group for this. Crawling up and inside without waking anyone up was a feat of acrobatic and stealth prowess he was willing to congratulate himself for, but he made a face when he saw Clark sitting up and staring at him. Typical.

"Just how good _is_ your hearing, anyway?" he grumbled under his breath, words almost silent.

"Better than yours," Clark mouthed back, lips barely visible to read in the dim moonlight.

Bruce slipped across the room, sliding onto Clark's bed but hesitating from leaning in close like he had planned, the closed look on Clark's face catching him off-guard. "Are- are we actually broken up?"

Clark's face twitched, hurt, resigned, but he slung an arm around Bruce's shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. "No, not really," he said quietly, words a warm rumble in Bruce's ear. Bruce shivered a little at the feel of it, eyes closing as he leaned in close. They stayed like that for a minute, just enjoying the comfort of being together.

Bruce finally had to pull back, resuming their whispered conversation. "I can't stay long, Tommy knows I'm here. What's the story?"

Clark tilted his head before answering, eyes going unfocused for a moment. "You weren't followed, but he's still awake."

"Hearing's _that_ good, huh?"

"Yes."

"Handy."

"And how. They caught me on the trail, there were... threats."

Bruce snorted under his breath, more for effect than anything. Clark pulled a face at him though, and the sardonic twist of his lips faded as he looked back.

"Bruce, I can't... I can handle anything. I'm strong enough to. But... this, all this, is a secret. I forget that sometimes. You... being around you makes me forget." Clark held his gaze, eyes sweet but voice sad. "And I really can't do that anymore. So yeah, they threatened me. And I'm playing at running scared. And we're probably not gonna be able to be friends in public for... I don't know. Maybe forever."

"Not forever," Bruce interrupted, stern. "They might have power here in numbers but at the very least they can't stop us from seeing each other after camp's over. The only reason they even care about their stupid social hierarchy so much is because we have to see each other every day. I guarantee once we get back to school they'll completely lose interest in both of us." He paused, seeing Clark grinning hugely at him. "What?"

"You still want to see each other after the summer?"

"Well yes, of course," Bruce said, confused. "You're the most interesting person I know and I like you more than 99 percent of the people I go to school with. You're one of my best friends and-" He paused, poking Clark sharply in the chest to drive the point home, "my _boyfriend_ , and I am not going to let some sociopathic morons with delusions of power end this with a few shoves and some mind games."

Clark laughed, burying his face in Bruce's neck to muffle the noise. "I'm glad," he whispered/wheezed. "It makes it easier to fake like we've ended when I know I'll still get to see you later."

Bruce scowled uncomfortably, patting Clark on the back and trying to get them back on topic. It was very distracting being held like this with Clark breathing down his neck, but the clock was ticking. "So we are publicly broken up. They scared you off, I'm brokenhearted and probably supposed to run weeping into Dinwiddie's arms, and we won't see each other in public except sad glances across the cafeteria for the rest of the summer."

"That's the plan, yeah."

"I don't like it. I'm going to try to get Edwin on my side to break up the power base so we can get back together."

"Mmm. Mrnh."

"Stop grunting and use your words, we're running out of time."

Clark huffed and snapped back under his breath. "I can't afford to have my powers exposed. Tommy's as smart as you are and he's keeping an eye on me. I want to be with you but I have to let them think they've got me beat so they go back to ignoring me. I hate it just as much as you, and I really don't like the idea of you and Edwin even if it's just a trick, but unless something drastic changes and they lose all interest I'm not gonna risk my safety just to show off."

Bruce pulled back stiffly. "Well. If that's how you feel."

"What are you getting upset about, it's not like you've got anything to lose!" Clark hissed at his back as he stalked towards the window.

"I'm on your side, I just need to look upset and rejected when I head back," Bruce shot back, not bothering to wait for a reply. It was better for both of them to make it look as real as possible, and even if they kept quiet he was willing to bet at least one of the Smallville boys had woken up to hear their harsh whispers.

He checked his watch and cursed a little, racing back to the cabin, barely bothering to hide this time. Despite his speed he slipped back inside just as silently as he left, immediately flinging himself into bed and burying his face into his pillow. If anyone said anything he didn't hear it, just closing his eyes and letting his breathing run ragged for a while until he finally eased his way into a doze. He barely slept that night, and dreamed of falling.


End file.
